I used to work for a charity doing construction in disaster areas; building schools, medical centres, plumbing etc. We’d turn up after wars, floods, earth quakes and other stuff like that. Most of us were single men, with zero attachments or responsibilities, so we took the more (potentially) dangerous jobs out there - purely for the adrenaline and the madness.
On arrival in the country a car load of us traveled 100km-ish away from the capital to scout the location we’d be at. After a day or two there we discovered that the situation on the ground really didn’t match the information we’d been given. A rebel army, of sorts, (maybe a militia, more accurately) had regrouped and were coming back towards us. As we were, uh, not local then there was the potential for some kidnapping - or worse - type shenanigans.
Me, 2 colleagues and our fixer (and his mother) decided to get out of there immediately. We “swapped” the charity’s car for a battered Toyota and some local clothes from our fixer’s uncle. (I’m sure he had about 600 uncles in total…)
We encountered a four man forward operations group of the proper army on the road. They asked us to follow them and detour to a village and help evacuate a group of people. We got there, “borrowed” a coach, loaded it up and then we got out of there, quick sharp. Zero incidents.
I don’t think we got the medal for bravery, as such, but more for a lack of cowardice and just doing the right thing when we really could’ve just fucked-off straight to the capital and boarded a plane out of there.
I didn’t mention it when I got back home because if I did it would just look like I was glazing myself - or lying.
I need the story now
It’s not really that exciting, in retrospect:
I used to work for a charity doing construction in disaster areas; building schools, medical centres, plumbing etc. We’d turn up after wars, floods, earth quakes and other stuff like that. Most of us were single men, with zero attachments or responsibilities, so we took the more (potentially) dangerous jobs out there - purely for the adrenaline and the madness.
On arrival in the country a car load of us traveled 100km-ish away from the capital to scout the location we’d be at. After a day or two there we discovered that the situation on the ground really didn’t match the information we’d been given. A rebel army, of sorts, (maybe a militia, more accurately) had regrouped and were coming back towards us. As we were, uh, not local then there was the potential for some kidnapping - or worse - type shenanigans.
Me, 2 colleagues and our fixer (and his mother) decided to get out of there immediately. We “swapped” the charity’s car for a battered Toyota and some local clothes from our fixer’s uncle. (I’m sure he had about 600 uncles in total…)
We encountered a four man forward operations group of the proper army on the road. They asked us to follow them and detour to a village and help evacuate a group of people. We got there, “borrowed” a coach, loaded it up and then we got out of there, quick sharp. Zero incidents.
I don’t think we got the medal for bravery, as such, but more for a lack of cowardice and just doing the right thing when we really could’ve just fucked-off straight to the capital and boarded a plane out of there.
I didn’t mention it when I got back home because if I did it would just look like I was glazing myself - or lying.
Imagine their entire family has no idea where the medal came from, but like 12 random people on the internet have the full story.