It was a few years before Minsk when I had first came across Jerry Furley in an encampment outside Srebrenica, Bosnia, in late June 1995. In those days, he was a Lieutenant Colonel attached to the Royal Netherlands army, in a logistical support tactical unit, part of the United Nations Protection Force, and I was the Guards Captain in charge of the multinational communications hub. To say the least, it was a hectic set of circumstances. To summarise, we were expected to pinpoint local hostilities whilst overseeing the withdrawal of Dutch troops and at the same time denying that an assembly of NATO aircraft were on the ground, waiting for instructions to attack the Bosnian Serb army.
The political will to stop the m******e was non-existent. Our company headquarters were the same as every o
