This is an insight into one of the least known services in the world. I am writing a Novel on my service with the United Nations as a field service officer.
The book will be fictionalised but will be based on true events that happened to me on my 15 years tenure with the UN.
I served in some of the most hazardous post war torn regions in the world Beirut, Cambodia, Mozambique, Angola and the Eastern Congo, this will be my story.
The area of operations was vast and most travel was carried out by vehicle although Beirut was only accessible by helo. Beirut was in ruins and sporadic fighting continued and although the team will be unarmed work on vital communications equipments had to be carried out.
Arriving by Helo on the waterfront it suddenly hit you the overpowering and looming international hotels casting a shadow over the heli pad. Standing proud charred with shrapnel and bullet holes they had lost there mystique and inviting appeal now just shells of there former glory.
The order was flash jackets and helmets, and we decided to build a shield in the rear of the cruieser with with tool boxes and spares, a nice shield should they start shooting from behind.
We made sure the med kit, radio and gps were on us with our ready bags containing ration packs, water a roll of toilet paper, if we had to bail out then we had the essentials.
The Apc led the way the team stuck in close and followed with the cruiser, what with shelling and sniper fire cracking and banging around us it was a bit unnerving feeling so vulnerable, the Apc was the place to be.
The smell of cordite wafted through the car, and an unbearable stench of burnt human flesh hung in the air, it was putrid and sickly, the convoy continued through the gray smoke and burning tyres used for road blocks when suddenly the radio blared with a message infroming us the road ahead had been closed due to the heavy fighting, so the only cause of action was to divert to a safe house the Mayflower hotel in Hamra.
Arriving safely at the hotel and after an informal check in our first stop was the hotel bar and as usual old "George" who had been the resident barman and story teller. He was quietly preparing the bar for us when we entered, he was overjoyed with our arrival and soon had us all entranced in one of his magical stories.
Its like he had been created with the hotel believe me he had some stories to tell, from the occupation by the Israelis to being kidnapped himself, by whom and for what got muddled in some of the other stories along with the numerous whiskies taken in, so with more than a few under the belt and a mind full of war stories and the clacking and banging from munitions outside I headed to bed......!
See more at the web site www.fieldserviceofficer.com
