The Easy Day Was Yesterday (25 page)

About six weeks into the deployment, with not much in the way of excitement going on, people were starting to go on their first short leave to Nairobi. You’d get three days’ break in which people basically relaxed, drank, ate and, for the younger men, screwed the local girls. The nightclubs in Nairobi were full of young, attractive women who were looking for a white man to marry them, so sex wasn’t a hard thing to find for those in need. One place everyone would go was a restaurant called Carnivores. Basically, you’d pay US$20 and eat giraffe, ostrich, zebra, antelope and whatever else was in season. You pretty much threw about three kilograms of meat into your guts, then went on your way feeling shithouse and as though you needed to give birth to a brick.

Jon Church and I were all set to go on leave and were on the standby team when I was told that we might be deployed to an IDP (internally displaced persons) camp. The Operations Officer asked if I’d been told about it.

‘No, Sir, news to me.’

Jon and I decided to pack the ambulance anyway, just in case we were going somewhere. We put two plastic jerry cans of water into the compartment on the roof along with our packs, two foldaway chairs, a bucket for washing, a heap of spare rations, two dumb-bells so we could continue our training, and two stretchers to sleep on. Being vehicle-mounted soldiers we knew exactly how to deploy in vehicles. If there was a chance we might have needed something and we had room, we took it.

That night, Tuesday 18 April 1995, at 5.00 pm, 32 members of the Australian Medical Support Force (AUSMED) were given orders to provide medical assistance to IDPs at the largest camp, close to the small town of Kibeho. We were told that the RPA (Rwandan Patriotic Army) was going to close all the camps starting with Kibeho, and would do so by force if necessary. I suspected they would have to use force, because the IDPs were being looked after in the camps with food, water and shelter and had no reason to leave. There was also an element of fear because the majority of the IDPs were Hutus, while the RPA was predominantly Tutsi. The Hutus had been the aggressors during the genocide 12 months earlier in which almost a million Tutsis had died. Kibeho camp was situated five hours’ drive south-west of Kigali, and was reported to contain 120,000 IDPs.

After orders, Jon and I returned to the Swamp (the evac room, named in honour of the
MASH
series) to sort out any last minute bits and pieces. I also ran into Terry Pickard. Terry was a good soldier and 2IC of the Casualty Clearing Post (CCP). I asked Terry if they were all packed. ‘Hell, no, mate, we’ve got miles to go.’

‘Do you need help? We’re done here.’

‘Nah, we’re good, thanks Jordo.’

‘Righto, see you in a few hours.’

The force, commanded by Major Steve McCrowin, comprised two infantry sections commanded by Lieutenant Steve Tilbrook; the CCP commanded by Captain Carol Vaughan-Evans (an army doctor); one evacuation crew which I commanded; and a signals detachment which was to be located at the Zambian Headquarters at Gikongoro. The force departed Kigali at 3.00 am on Wednesday morning and headed west to Butare. At the UN Headquarters in Butare we turned right and continued on to Gikongoro. A two-minute drive out of Gikongoro had us at the Zambian Headquarters at 7.30 am where we set up a base camp.

This was a very long drive for that hour of the morning. After orders the night before, Jon and I had decided to have a few beers to help us get to sleep. We got our heads down at about 9.00 pm and, ten minutes later, we were called out on an evacuation task. We were told to go to the MP (Military Police) compound where a prisoner had been beaten. Realising that we smelt of beer, we threw half a dozen minties into our mouths so we wouldn’t get our arses kicked by the MPs for driving around half-pissed. As it turned out, there was nothing wrong with the prisoner, so we went back to the hospital to see how things were going down there. The poor bastards were still at it, loading shit into the truck. We hung around for a while, but given that they were nearly done, we went back to bed, happy that we had pre-empted the move and packed the moment we had got wind of the deployment. We were back in the compound and in bed by 12.30 am. So, when we got up two hours later, we weren’t quite ready for an outing to a massacre.

I’m buggered if I know how Jon drove for the five hours without falling asleep and killing both of us, but he managed to get us there without any drama while I slept my lazy arse off next to him. Occasionally, I asked Jon if he wanted a spell, but he always said that he was okay, which was a good thing because, the way I felt, I’d have driven about 300 metres before I’d have fallen asleep and driven the ambo off a cliff. It was great when the sun came up because we got to see some more of this country and, while it was still recovering from the genocide that had taken place a year before, it was a beautiful country with a great climate. I pulled out some of our French rations and made myself useful by making some snacks for Jon to keep him going. I also had the map laid out so I could work out where we were and where we were going.

At 7.45 am, I left the ambulance with Jon at the Zambian Battalion Headquarters with one infantry section and, under command of Major McCrowin, the remaining section, the CCP and I continued on to Kibeho. The drive to Kibeho was interesting. Gikongoro was surrounded by a mountain range and the best way for the kids to get into town was to scream down these hills on home-made wooden scooters. The scooters were fashioned from old bits of wood, but were quite well put together. The wheels were made of wood as were the axles. The forks sat over the axle without anything to lock them in. The riders of these scooters had to dodge the holes in the road because to hit one would see the axle jump out of the forks and some poor kid doing cartwheels down the hill.

We left the solid road and hit the dirt road that would take us all the way into Kibeho. On the way we were surprised to see some quite large IDP camps, although the occupants seemed to be doing okay. We drove through coffee plantations and small villages. We passed a number of small children walking along the roads and they gave us the usual greeting by calling for ‘bisquee’. During the French occupation they had obviously given the kids biscuits, so now they demanded them every time we saw them. After a while the infantry lads got sick of this, so they’d hold a biscuit out the back of the rover and tease the kids into chasing after them. The kids would run flat out trying to get the biscuit while the infantry soldier took a bite from it. Finally, after three kilometres or so when the kids would start to slow, the infantry lad would drop the biscuit. Bloody cruel, but they were bored.

We arrived at the outskirts of the camp at 9.30 am. The place looked like a ghost town and we all assumed that we’d missed the IDPs. We were told that the RPA were going to clear the camp and we thought that they had already done so. As we continued through the camp I could see that it had been cleared very quickly because most of the IDPs’ belongings had been left behind. We continued on towards the buildings of Kibeho and, as we rounded the corner to the centre of the community, we were confronted by a sea of humanity. It’s difficult to describe the sight of 120,000 people all herded together like sheep. There were so many of them it was overwhelming. Later, we found out that the RPA had used gunfire to round up all the IDPs and, in the rush, 10 children had been trampled to death. As we drove through the camp, the crowd parted and began to clap and cheer as if we were their saviours. I wasn’t sure what they thought we could do for them.

The Zambian company located at Kibeho had set up a watering point and, beyond that, was the documentation point where the identification of all IDPs was being checked by the RPA before they were loaded onto trucks to be transported back to their communities. We tried to set up the CCP but were twice told that our location wasn’t satisfactory and eventually we set up beyond the documentation point. While the RPA were not happy with us being in the camp, they put up with us. We spent the whole day there and saw only one casualty, a Zambian soldier with a minor injury. We left the camp that Wednesday with the feeling that we were not really required and should return to Kigali.

Back at the Zambian compound, Jon and I had a work-out using the dumb-bells and then got cleaned up for dinner. We were invited to have dinner in the respective messes with the Zambians, and the food was quite good — certainly better than the French rations we had. The French ration packs made a change from the Aussie packs, but were good for only one day, and then we’d have been happy with an Aussie rat pack again. The French rations were full of lollies and biscuits. The lollies consisted of a bag of caramel bits which, due to my love of caramel, I managed to shove into my mouth all at once, and a piece of sugar-covered jelly which I also liked. The quantity of lollies and biscuits contained in the rat packs told us why they were thrown to the kids — there were just so many.

The Zambian camp was surrounded with concertina wire and, beyond that, there was always a local or two asking for food. The kids openly asked for food, but the adults just stood there looking at us until we could stand it no longer and gave them a tin or two. Jon and I did a lot of our eating while on the move; I’d pull out a rat pack and start making cheese and pâté biscuits. We did this because we were dog tired, and the eating gave us something to take our minds off sleeping. It also took some time to put these culinary delights together and therefore gave us something to occupy our time.

On Thursday 20 April, we arrived at Kibeho at 8.30 am and entered the Zambian Charlie Company compound. This time I had Jon and the ambulance with me. The Charlie Company compound was located in the middle of all the IDPs. We were told by the Zambians that they had a woman who had given birth the night before and still had a child inside her. She also had a three-year-old daughter who, at the time, was with an old woman who had two children herself. Carol spoke to one of the specialists back at AUSMED and explained the situation to him. This took some time because a driver had to go to the hospital to collect the specialist and take him to the communications centre. The specialist recommended evacuating the lady back to AUSMED, so Carol prepared the woman for the flight. We argued the point with our headquarters in Kigali that the woman’s young daughter should travel back to AUSMED with her. However the headquarters said no, so we felt as though we had broken up another family. AUSMED insisted they didn’t have the manpower to babysit a child while her mother was recovering. We had her aeromedically evacuated (AME) to Kigali and it was later discovered in theatre that all she had was a swollen bladder. Once again, we set up the CCP at the documentation point and this time we went ‘shopping’ for casualties.

The RPA soldiers would fire their weapons into the air to control the IDPs. At around 1.00 pm we heard sporadic fire, so three infantry soldiers, Jon and I moved off towards the fire to look for casualties, although we didn’t manage to locate anyone who needed our help. Tension was mounting in the camp and, as we left that night, we heard more firing from inside the camp. We had difficulty leaving the camp that day as the RPA had set up roadblocks. We decided to follow a convoy carrying IDPs when one truck slid in the mud and went off the bank, so every other truck stopped and blocked the road. We turned around to find another way out and, as we passed Kibeho, we again heard the crackle of gunfire.

We eventually found a secure route out and were 30 minutes from the camp when we spoke to a man from UNICEF (United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund). He told us that he’d heard over the radio that 10 IDPs had been shot dead in the camp. Due to restrictions we were not permitted to stay in the camp overnight, so we continued back to the Zambian Headquarters.

Once back at the Zambian Headquarters we showered in a bucket of cold water and went to the Zambian mess for some dinner. Inside the mess, the fire they used to cook the dinner was like a bushfire and was smoking terribly. This didn’t seem to worry the Zambians and they chatted happily to us in the smoke-filled room. But in the end I had to get out of there because I was starting to drown in my tears — it was horrendous. Jon and I slept in the back of the ambulance because it offered the best bed in the area.

On Friday 20 April, we arrived at Kibeho at 8.30 am and were told that there were 30 dead from the night before and that the Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) hospital was busy, but at this stage required no help. When the Kibeho camp was initially established, MSF moved into the camp to set up a small hospital which was kept very busy. We set up the CCP at the documentation point and saw a few patients who were suffering from colds and basic infections. For most, it was a case of giving them antibiotics and sending them on their way. A number of children came into the CCP and, if there were no RPA around, we gave them dry clothes and pushed some lollies into their mouths. Towards the afternoon we picked up an IDP with a broken femur whom we planned to drive back to the hospital in Butare that evening.

There was a group of IDPs sitting on some high ground near the documentation point awaiting transport, so some of us went over to look through the crowd for wounded. As we did this, an RPA soldier started to tell me to leave the area. I approached him and, even though he wasn’t speaking English, I knew exactly what he wanted. I basically told him to shove it up his arse and, even though I couldn’t speak Rwandan, he knew what I meant and didn’t trouble us any more. Sometimes the bluff worked, most times it didn’t. That morning, an RPA Corporal tried to make us leave the documentation point and set up somewhere else. Major McCrowin told the Corporal that we were not moving and that he would not speak to him, reminding the Corporal that he was a Major. He told the Corporal to go and get his CO as he was the only person he would speak to. The Corporal left and we never heard any more about it. In the early afternoon, Major McCrowin left Kibeho to return to Kigali and placed Lieutenant Steve Tilbrook in command. Tilbrook was a young infantry platoon commander with a couple of years’ experience up his sleeve and, by all accounts, a pretty good officer.