'I felt incredibly lucky to be alive' – Martin Bell on the holiday that changed him
Former war reporter Martin Bell made a poignant return to Sarajevo and the spot where he was injured
After decades reporting from war zones for the BBC, I never expected to end up in Parliament, but I was elected as an independent MP on May 1 1997 and by August that year I desperately needed a break.
I’d covered the war in Bosnia from its start in April 1992 to its conclusion three years later, including the day in August 1992 when I was seriously injured by a mortar bomb. I’d been standing on a loading ramp at the back of the Marshal Tito barracks in Sarajevo close to the Holiday Inn, where I’d been stationed, when a huge firefight broke out. I was shielded from snipers behind me, but the mortar landed on the ramp and I took some shrapnel to my stomach.
The first commander of the British Forces patched me up before I was rushed to the United Nations Hospital and operated on by a French surgeon. Then I was flown home to London to have the rest of the shrapnel removed, except for one piece that remains today. The British surgeon said it would be more dangerous to dislodge it.
Despite what had happened, I’d completely fallen in love with Sarajevo and its people. Bosnia has some of the most beautiful mountains and river valleys in Europe. coupled with a fascinating history of its collision of empires and the assassination of the Archduke in 1914. Regardless of the trauma of war, I thought the best thing I could do was return there. I wanted to see it in a time of peace, without the gunfire.
Peace indeed. When I arrived for my long weekend, it was less than two years since the Dayton Peace Agreement and the most marked thing was the silence. During the conflict my lullaby had been the gunfire every night lit by the parachute flares from snipers illuminating their targets. Yet peace prevailed upon my return.
I stayed at my old stamping ground, the Holiday Inn. The view from my window was of the ruins of the Unis Towers and the parliament building, much as they had been when inspected by President Mitterrand, of France, in 1992. Trams rumbled past the hotel, making Sarajevo feel like a working tram museum. When Amsterdam and Zurich upgraded their transport systems, they sent their old trams to Sarajevo – another good reason to visit.
In the hotel breakfast room I was greeted like an old friend by the ladies who ran it (now, though, it had a view instead of being in the basement). You could feel their burden had been lifted; the relief to be alive was tangible.
My first excursion was to formerly Serb-held territory in Pale, which we had not been able to visit since August 1994. The tourist shop sold icons, paintings and records of Serbian “turbo rock”. The new post-war Bosnia had a national anthem but not a song, because no one could agree on the words. I went to visit a friend of mine in the Old City, a Croat widow whose husband had been a Bosnian Muslim. She translated for the Italian contingents of the international force. Once, she took her son Faris for a holiday to Rome. He asked “Do they have bomb shelters in Rome?” Yet we both recognised how far Sarajevo had come and the liberation we both felt brought to mind Siegfried Sassoon’s wonderful poem, “Everybody Sang”:
“Everyone suddenly burst out singing;/And I was filled with such delight/As prisoned birds must find in freedom,/Winging wildly across the white/Orchards and dark-green fields; on – on – and out of sight.”
It was strange to think this was the city where I once sought out bad guys (I believed they held the key to the solution in conflicts, whether Protestant paramilitaries in Belfast or Serbs in Bosnia). This was where I’d drink whiskey with Radovan Karadzic before later testifying against him in court.
One night, I took a taxi from one side of the city to the other just for the sheer pleasure of driving with no roadblocks. The many destroyed buildings were stark reminders of the fragile peace. Just being there without a flak jacket felt so uplifting, so much so that on another taxi trip, I decided to visit the exact spot where the mortar attack had taken place. I paced on the spot where I’d been hit and felt incredibly lucky to be alive. That was a big part of the motive for taking the trip: after an experience like that, you don’t take anything for granted.
Despite the high number of Islamic terrorists, Sarajevo is a now a coffee shop society. A lasting peace is not guaranteed, but it feels like a long extended ceasefire.
Had it not been for Covid, I’d have returned this year to be part of an exhibition celebrating the Holiday Inn as one of the world’s great war zone hotels. I’ve written a poem for it and the whole experience will continue to remind me how lucky I am to be alive.
As told to Nick McGrath
War And Peacekeeping (RRP, £20) by Martin Bell, published on Oct 1, is available through Telegraph Books (0844 871 1514; books.telegraph.co.uk) for £16.99.
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Planning a trip to Sarajevo for when travel restrictions ease? Read our comprehensive city guide at telegraph.co.uk/tt-sarajevo
