Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (60 page)

 
          
“Pardon
me. Colonel,” Simorov said, “but I think the
United States
has forfeited its right to comment on how
KFOR deploys its forces or accomplishes its mission. Contributing a few cargo
planes and reconnaissance satellites doesn't add up to a peacekeeping force
with equal responsibility.”

 
          
“Let
us stop wasting time with squabbling,” Colonel Messier said. “If the Americans
and Italians refuse to participate, others must step in to help quickly
stabilize the situation. Pending approval from my government, I can deploy my
forces south from Pec, Kosovo, into
Albania
. We’ve received a certain amount of
relative goodwill from the Albanian government in the past—I think the United
Nations and NATO can convince the Albanian government to allow German
peacekeeping forces into the region. We can limit our movements, say, from the
Bigorski Monastery southward to the Lake Ohrid area, restricted to north of the
Elbasan- Thessaloniki Highway. Naturally, if the Albanian government allows us
to do so, we can cover and patrol more extensively throughout
Albania
.” He stood up and pointed to a large map
against a wall. “With permission, we can even perhaps cover both sides of the
border.”

 
          
“German
troops moving into both
Albania
and
Macedonia
?” Colonel Simorov retorted. “Pardon me.
Oberst,
but I would very much like to see a more balanced force in place. The Russian
contingent is by far the largest force still remaining in the region, except
for
Germany
and perhaps
Britain
. I will propose to my government that
Russia
move a portion of its peacekeeping forces
south from Prizren to the
Lake
Ohrid
area, perhaps headquartering in
Bitola
. That way we’re close enough to assist if
there’s an outbreak of hostilities, but we’re not breathing down anyone’s neck
either.” He nodded to Messier and added, “Next to the Germans perhaps, the
Russians enjoy the worst reputation in this part of the world.”

 
          
“I
think that honor is now reserved for the Americans,” the Italian commander
said. Many of the commanders laughed— but the Italian colonel was serious.

 
          
“The
English and French can maintain their positions in Kosovo,” the German
commander summarized. “With assistance from the other nations involved, I
believe
Germany
can maintain a sufficient presence in
Albania
to quell any violence, and certainly with
the Russians across the border in
Macedonia
, we can calm the situation dramatically. We
stay out of sight unless there’s fighting or unless we see signs of illegal
activity, such as arms smuggling. It is a workable interim solution until the
diplomats can find a more lasting mechanism for keeping the peace.”

 
          
There
were no other nations willing or able to offer a better solution, so the
resolution passed unanimously. At that, with a simple voice vote, the Balkans
were carved up once again.

Government House,
Skopje
,
Republic
of
Macedonia

That same time

           
“Tell that rat bastard Kazakov to
get the hell out of
Skopje
— his visa is to be revoked immediately!” Branco Nikolov, the prime
minister of the
Republic
of
Macedonia
, shouted. “I am canceling my appointments
with him now and to eternity!” Nikolov hated gangsters like Kazakov, and the
reason was simple:
Macedonia
was one of seven nations in the world legally
authorized to cultivate, store, sell, and ship pharmaceutical opium. While it
was a very lucrative enterprise, perfectly suited for a mostly agricultural
country like
Macedonia
, the nation had to endure constant scrutiny
and immense challenges to make sure the opium was not getting into the hands of
illegal- drug makers.
Macedonia
expended quite a bit of its gross national
product on internal and border security to combat the evil influences of men
like Kazakov.

 
          
It
didn’t make any difference that Kazakov wanted to talk about something else
entirely—getting licenses and leases to build a huge pipeline across
Macedonia
from
Bulgaria
to
Albania
. It didn't matter. Kazakov was scum.

 
          
Just
then, the phone rang. Nikolov picked it up and listened. His assistant saw his
shoulders droop and his jaw drop open. “Sir?”

 
          
Nikolov
looked up at his assistant, surprise and disbelief etched across his face. His
eyes again fell to the desk. “Get Kazakov ... no,
ask
Comrade Kazakov to
come in.”

 
          
“Sir?”
the assistant gasped. “I thought you said .. ?”

 
          
“Just
do it,” Nikolov said in a low, panicked voice. “That was the President. The
United Nations Security Council is voting later this morning on a resolution to
send Russian peacekeepers into
Macedonia
from Kosovo.”

 
          
“
What?
Russian troops in
Macedonia
? It cannot be!”

 
          
“They
are on the move right now,” Nikolov said. ‘The resolution is expected to pass
by the end of the day. Three thousand Russian troops from Prizren, another five
thousand troops expected to fly into the capital by next week and move to
Bitola
to set up observation posts along the
Albanian border. The
Germans
will be patrolling the Albanian side. The
goddamned Germans—”

 
          
“But..
. but what about Kazakov? What does he have to do about this?”

 
          
“I
don’t know, but I feel his fingers pulling some strings in all this.” Nikolov
said ominously.

 
          
“How
so, sir?”

 
          
“Don’t
you see? The Russian troops from Prizren will be following a route exactly
identical to the routing Kazakov’s proposed pipeline will take. Kazakov will
practically have Russian troops guarding every centimeter of his proposed
pipeline.”

 
          
“But
that’s got to be a coincidence, sir,” the assistant said. "The duplicity
falls apart at the Albanian border. Kazakov will never get approval from
Albania
to extend his pipeline project into
Albania
.”

 
          
Nikolov
looked worried enough to chew a fingernail, something his assistant had never
before seen him do. “But if he
does
do it, if he
does
get
permission, there’s nothing we could do about it with Russian troops occupying
half our country,” he said. “Better to make a deal with Kazakov now—the fewer
enemies we have, the better.”

Near Resen,
Republic
of
Macedonia

The next day

           
“C’mon, kids, let’s get going!”
Chief Master Sergeant Ed Lewis, NCOIC of the 158th Fighter Wing, Vermont Air
National Guard, shouted through the mess tent door. “It’s a beautiful day
outside, we’re having a great time, and breakfast was exceptionally good today!
Let’s move it!” The Chief greeted his troops like this every day at 0645. He
was usually the first one in line when the chow hall opened up at 0600, but he
had already led PT at 0530 and had conducted an informal first sergeant’s
meeting at the breakfast table.

 
          
Inside
the tent, his troops made a few raucous comments as they got up from the picnic
bench-style tables, policed up their trays and areas, and headed outside. Lewis
spoke a little Macedonian and greeted every Macedonian soldier in his own
language, which he knew sounded funny as hell in his thick
New England
accent. The weather was miserable, the
conditions were poor most times, the workdays were long and hard, the food was
plentiful but bland, and they were six thousand miles from home—but Ed Lewis
and his Green Mountain Boys loved every minute of it.

 
          
For
the second year in a row, members of the Vermont Air National Guard were
participating in a Partnership For Peace program called Cornerstone, where NATO
and Macedonian military units worked side by side, shared equipment, learned
about each other’s capabilities, trained together, and did some good work for
the locals at the same time. For Cornerstone 2001-3, the encampment was in a
rural area fifteen miles north of Resen in south-central
Macedonia
. Spring flooding had decimated a number of
villages in the area, so construction units of the U.S. Navy Seabees and U.S.
Marine Corps, led by units of the 158th Fighter Wing “Green Mountain Boys” of
the Vermont Air National Guard, had been sent in to rebuild roads, schools,
bridges, and other buildings, help the local utilities restore and restart
service, and supply drinking water to the citizens.

 
          
This
was the second time that Chief Master Sergeant Ed Lewis, first sergeant of the
158th Fighter Wing of the Vermont Air National Guard, had been in
Macedonia
during his training rotation. To tell the
absolute truth, he enjoyed the hell out of it.
Southern Macedonia
was very much like his native
Milton
,
Vermont
—rural, rugged, isolated, lush, a little backward, wet, sometimes cold
and gray, other times sunny and spectacularly beautiful. The people were
friendly and very hospitable. Most everyone spoke English, at least much better
than Lewis spoke Macedonian or Greek, which was a real benefit to Lewis and his
contingent of one hundred Guardsmen and the other American service members
here.

 
          
The
troops were treated like neighbors here. If a soldier paused longer than normal
on the street, a woman would come out of a nearby house and invite him inside
to rest, or offer him or her coffee, cakes, or delicacies such as lamb’s head
soup. They never gave directions to anyone—the locals would always escort a
lost soldier to his destination, no matter how far out of their way it was. If
an American did the simplest courtesy for a Macedonian, even as trivial as
stepping aside to let him or her pass, or holding a door open, the next time
you’d meet that civilian, he or she would offer to launder your uniform, take
you for a drive around town to sec the sights, or have you meet every one of
his relatives. Although living in the field was tough on all of them, the
locals did everything they could to make the foreigners seem welcome.

 
          
The
latest and biggest project by Cornerstone 2001 was restoring a flooded school
campus. The combined elementary, middle, and high school complex, which also
served as a local medical clinic, day-care center, farmer’s market, veterinary
clinic, and vocational-technical school, had been badly damaged when the nearby
Czur River had spilled over its banks in the springtime rains and runoff, and
nearby damage and contamination to wells and water-treatment facilities had
left the area without any sanitary facilities or healthy water supplies. It was
Lewis’s job to coordinate the activities of the Green Mountain Boys, along with
a few soldiers from other NATO countries, Macedonian Army conscripts, and local
paramilitaries and townspeople into an effective construction unit.