Wearing them was mandatory, and, on my scrawny, civilian body, ridiculously heavy. I wondered if the main purpose was to keep us from running away. We met our bus driver, Ricky, and the three of us, officially called Laugh Force Five, were off, surrounded by three Humvees. Everywhere we went, it was in the midst of an armed convoy, with a soldier manning the machine gun in the turret. Stopping before our destination was politely discouraged, and I learned real fast to limit my intake of liquids.
Guys can hold it longer.
The bridge had been destroyed in the war and rebuilt by NATO and the demining process was still going on. We were told to walk only on the roads, for the Balkans are full of unexploded land mines. Once over the bridge into Bosnia, the devastation of the war was everywhere. The road turned to mostly dirt. Many of the buildings had been bombed, and those still standing had bullet holes.