We’ve Gotta Get Out Of This Place — Busovača, Bosnia-Herzegovina | August 1997
“Persistence, Imagination and
Thinking Beyond Established Ideas”
“Sergeant Van Gaans! You’d better get your group on the bus,” Base Commander Captain ’t Hart shouts.
I’m in doubt now. Together with my twelve soldiers, I’m waiting at the edge of the improvised helipad next to ‘Hotel Nunspeet’, headquarters of the NL Contingent Command Company of the NATO Stabilisation Force (SFOR) in Bosnia-Herzegovina. We’re at the end of our tour and a helicopter is supposed to fly my group to the Croatian seaside city of Split, the SFOR port of debarkation, but the sky’s empty.
“Maybe we should get on the bus sergeant,” one of my corporals quietly suggests.
“No, not yet, there’s plenty of time! The top brass haven’t even finished breakfast yet,” I tell him.
I am in doubt, but the opportunity is just too great to let go. The bus journey to Split is a backbreaking 14 hours over broken roads which I’m not looking forward to.
Over the past six months, I witnessed numerous NATO helicopters landing at the base helipad and many of them were en route to Split. This got me thinking. Almost all the helicopters were empty on their way to Split, it should just be possible to hitch a ride.
A month or two ago I approached one of the pilots as he was having a coffee in our mess and asked him if it would be possible to do just that.
“You probably could, but you’ve got to check with your Air Force Liaison Officer,” he had answered.
That was encouraging. The next day I went to see the colonel in charge of the Air Force Liaison Office at their prefab — one of the advantages of being stationed at HQ is the easy access to high ranking officers.
After formalities and some chit-chat, I asked the colonel if and how I could book a helicopter.
“That’s easy,” he said, “you just fill out this form. But I very much doubt your request will be approved.”
“Why not? Who’s the decision-maker?”
“Flight Command in Zagreb. They do the flight planning and I doubt they’ll let anyone below the rank of major aboard one of their helicopters.”
“Hmm, OK… but can I just try?” I asked, always ready to challenge the system.
“Sure, but don’t get your hopes up,” the colonel said as he handed me the form.
That night, during the night guard shift, I discussed the idea with my group and they all agreed we should try to book a helicopter. So I filled in the form and handed it back to the colonel who promised to submit it to NATO Flight Command in Zagreb.
Then three weeks ago I was called into the liaison office. “Well congratulations sergeant, it seems you outplayed the system,” the colonel said with a weary smile, obviously not too thrilled about it. “Your request has been approved, but keep in mind that this might change at any time depending on operational circumstances.”
I couldn’t care less. Even if it was cancelled, I had tried and it had been approved! Of course, operational circumstances could intervene but if they didn’t we’d be flying to Split in an hour instead of sitting on the bus for 14 hours.
At the moment, however, staring at the empty sky, it looks like operational circumstances have indeed intervened, even though there hasn’t been any official message about it. Feeling dispirited, I turn my attention the parking lot in front of the hotel were the captains, majors, lieutenant-colonels and colonels who make up the majority of the NL Contingent Command Company — only a third of the troops at this base are below the rank of captain — are getting on the bus to Split. With a deep sigh, I turn to my waiting group of soldiers.
“Guys, it looks like…” I begin, but then the thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap-whup-whup sound of an approaching helicopter thunders through the sky. A large zebra-striped helicopter — kind of an interesting choice of camouflage — is approaching and clearly getting ready to land on our little helipad. As soon as the helicopter touches down, the side door slides open and a loadmaster appears.
“Sergeant Van Gaans?” he calls out.
“Here!” I shout unable to contain my excitement.
“Hurry, get on board, we’re running late.”
Quickly my group and I climb aboard the helicopter, fighting the downwash. We’ve been practising this procedure with an empty container for the past weeks and so we’re able to board the helicopter quickly and professionally, the loadmaster is clearly satisfied with our performance.
As the door slides to a close, I can see the bewildered faces of all the senior officers staring at me from the bus, watching how a simple sergeant with his group of twelve soldiers is going to be flying to Split: a one-hour flight instead of 14 hours on the bus!
I can’t believe it myself, this is a life lesson, with a bit of persistence, imagination and the ability to think beyond established ideas, anything is possible.
The Animals. We’ve Gotta Get Out Of This Place on Tour of Duty #1 [CD]. Amsterdam, the Netherlands: Magnum (1990)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
