Mark Isfeld
. . .  We had an "unsmooth" return to Polom, as our last packet was diverted 
to do a confiscation of arms.  The Serbs would not hand it over nor would 
they claim it.  So we placed small charges and blew the doors off.  The 
bunker was unloaded, but before the boys could load it into the APC they 
were surrounded by approx. 200 Serbs in uniform.  they were being hyped up 
by a Serb colonel who was getting the crowd excited and making cut-throat 
gestures and calling out "Kanadish spy, You die!"  The guys were very sure 
they would die.  The Serbs took back all but 1 case of explosives and the 
two troopers managed to get back alive.  Tense, very tense.
         I know how they feel.  I was doing reconnaissance on a bridge for 
possible demolition.  We were swamped by Serb TDF. ( Territorial Defence 
Force. )  It was also tense and as we were just in the process of leaving, 
my rifle was in the jeep.  The way we handle our weapons is something we 
must be conscious of so as not to provoke any anger or misunderstanding.  
Consequently I left it alone.  We were swamped and they were pressing around 
and closing in on my vehicle.  I was concerned to say the least.  I had to 
ask them to move away from our maps.  To make a long story short, we defused 
the situation and left in good faith.  When we shook hands, the Serb I was 
squared off with, so to speak, took my hand in both of his as if in an
ensuring gesture of apology for any anxiety I may have felt caused by him.  
We have had seven such notable confrontations and the feeling is a tension 
that could snap easily. . . Seriously I am in an embittered mood of late, 
having been part of the Serbian farce.  Being privy to a conversation
that went on between my troop warrant officer and Major Tiger, the Serbian 
officer, regarding the hostile way we hold our weapons toward little 
children, and how we take the food out of their mouths by driving through 
the fields.  As well we drive our tracks on their roads and leave them
in a muddy state as an insult to them.
         We were also made into propaganda pictures in all these cases 
because the Serb Major posed little kids near us, and old ladies.  I realize 
this is all a fabrication of lies about us, but it really makes me want to 
put a f---ing bullet between that hypocrites eyes!
At the same time we had a couple of Chetniks who look no more impressive 
than one of our bikers.  They have skull and crossbones insignia, and hat 
badges reminiscent of the SS.  Mine - the fat bearded one - kept stepping 
rudely in front of me slowly to try to provoke a reaction.  I only smiled 
and stayed composed though my loose slung weapon was ready to counter a move 
from him.  The other Chetnik looked like Charles Manson and smiled 
incessantly at one of the Patricias.  There is no doubt the Serb Major would 
like nothing more than to see us leave, as we are in control, and keep 
proving him a liar!!  We also keep all his weapons!!
	 Although I was angry and felt like just leaving these people to their own 
devices, I remembered that he is the evil sort who caused all the problems 
here, and on our way back to Polom people came to the road side to wave at 
the "blue hats", and I threw candy to the little kids.  Who, I might add, 
are far from spoiled and share.
  I wonder how long it takes to teach them the war mentality their elders 
thrive on?

     Yes, I certainly do look forward to our own lovely kind of chaos in Canada.

All my love your peace keeper
                    M.. . . .
. . .. I saw PSO [personnel services officer] yesterday and formally put in 
my request for remuster as a welder, air force.  Should I be accepted, I 
will know by June and if not, oh well.  Should I go on course and fail, I'm 
kicked out but I can't see me failing and its just the way it goes.  I'm happy
as an engineer, I will always admire them and be one of them, but I'm 
prepared to move on to something new. 
		 The good times don't outweigh the hard any more.. . . . 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brian Isfeld
	Mark arrived home from this tour and resumed a relatively normal life.  We 
fished occasionally and traded visits. His approach to the third tour was 
not like the two previous.  Mark had experienced many of the realities of 
damage a war does to people and countries and just before leaving on this 
trip told me: "Dad, I don't feel good about this trip.  Something is going 
to happen. Not necessarily to me but I don't like it".
	     Completely out of character for Mark and it troubled me.  Not a great 
deal, but there was still the chance he could be right.  His approach this 
time was one of pure professionalism.  He wanted to get over there, do his 
job, and get home.  No excitement.  No ebullience.  Just apprehension.  He 
had told me that he was resigned to the fact that the situation in Croatia 
was not going to change in the near future and that he could see no end in 
sight.  He said it had the makings of another Cyprus for the Canadians, and 
he expected to see much more of Croatia before anything was resolved.
	     When, shortly after he arrived in Croatia for the  second time, and an 
accident in which a jeep hit a mine caused the young driver to lose a leg 
and an eye, I thought back to the statements he had made to me and wondered 
if he was psychic.  I thought well, maybe he had good reason to worry and 
wonder about this trip.  But what he was worrying about had happened and now 
it was over.  Little did I realize that shortly his predictions would come 
crashing down on all our shoulders like a giant hammer wielded by the 
harbinger of death.

   And on the shoulders of these peacekeepers in this far off, hostile land.

   	  The following letters are of course the last of Mark's words,  letters 
home while servinghis third and final United Nations peacekeeping tour.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
.. . . Mark Isfeld       to parents     Donje Biljane
                              Croatia (Serb territory)      April 27 94

    	 Sorry for not writing sooner, basically I have been totally 
uninterested in writing, between being sick and overworked I have not had 
time.  Though my thoughts are always with you.

   My section [eight persons] has broken some sort of record for a Canadian 
Field Engineer section for most mines lifted since world war 2.  Up until 
today we have recorded over 270.  All these are a mixture of anti-tank and 
personnel.  The reason there is so many is due to the fact that we are 
basically on the front line of a newly formed line of separation, basically 
a demilitarized zone.  There are continuous shot reports and shell reps.  No 
one has been shot at that I'm aware of; 
         mostly drunken Serbs or Croats pissing in the wind.

    	 There has been a mine accident which you are already aware of in which 
an Iltis (jeep) ran over a mine  in our area.  Enough about that.

  Needless to say we are being very careful, trying not to let complacency 
set in.  Soon we will have all the patrol routes cleared of mines and the 
Adrenalin levels will level out and we can fall into a routine.  As for now 
without a doubt us engineers are the most sought after and respected 
soldiers on the line, not to mention the least envied.

    I have met many Serb and Croatian soldiers.  Many are high ranking 
commanders of sectors and the such.  I have been doing a lot of mine lift 
supervision or overseeing, recording data, negotiating, communicating 
concerns and  encouraging the lifting of mines and minefields
 that are not necessarily on our patrol routes,  in the hopes of saving 
lives of soldiers, civilians and animals. 
         Peacekeeping in the true sense, like I have never been so directly  
exposed to previously.

  I have made some good friends on both sides but one particularly good 
friend, Filip, a Croatian Lt. Infantry soldier.  Together we became friends 
in a way that is hard to explain.  He knows, I know, and no one else can.  
We cleared a field of six anti-personnel mines in waist high grass with trip 
wires all around.  When we had it cleared we shook hands as if the unspoken
words were understood.  I had to explode,  with c-4, two of the mines 
because they were unsafe to handle.  Filip is without a doubt my most 
reliable ally in this operation.  He looks at mine records and takes me 
aside and secretly gives me numbers, types and locations.  I then work on 
him to "come lift with us".  He is very concerned about my welfare and is 
constantly looking out
for me telling me "Mark in this area you go slow."

   He is truly in the mood for peace. 

         I gave him one of mom's dolls for his three year old daughter and a 
Canadian flag.  He keeps trying to get me to drink Pivo or Vino but I told 
him I'mallergic, every time I drink I get drunk.

   	 I had to laugh the other day.  I pulled out my water bottle and offered 
a guy a drink.  He laughed at me like I was crazy.  I said "You dumb f---er, 
you probably don't know what water tastes like".  One more funny story: 
Rudy's section was ready to blow up some mines and had to make sure 
civilians were clear.  The interpreter told an old man to tell his wife to 
get out of the field.  He looked over at her, then at Rudy and waved his 
hand away and said " bah nema".  They laughed but got her out.

     	We have moved to a new building.  It's an old bar-hotel not bad.  It 
will be better as time moves on.  Tomorrow we are taking a break from mine 
lifting.  The next day we will empty our storage area of about 90 mines that 
will be fun.  Big boom!


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