If the implications weren't so tragic, the calamities of Bosnia's peacekeepers might seem comic. One United Nations unit, a battalion from Bangladesh, huddled in the Bihac pocket with no winter clothing, scant food rations and one rifle for every four soldiers. Fuel-deprived blue helmets in three embattled Muslim enclaves performed indoor tasks by candlelight, outdoor duties by foot and transport chores by mule. The world's most potent military alliance, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, fared little better. NATO warplanes, patrolling far out of range of Bosnian Serb antiaircraft fire, were in no position to deter transgressors. When the Bangladeshis suffered five casualties in what the U.N. termed "one of the most flagrant, deliberate and calculated assaults to have taken place in the history of the peacekeeping mission," the phone at the NATO base in Naples never rang.
The men and women trying to keep peace in a land that has known only war for 32 months are being humiliated like never before. Aware that the U.N. is loath to call in NATO air power, Serbs halt fuel and food convoys, deliberately target U.N. personnel and flaunt their disregard for hollow threats of reprisals. After weeks of huffing, puffing and bluffing about a possible U.N. withdrawal, troop contributors finally admitted that -- for now anyway -- they are in Bosnia to stay. In light of the stalemate, the participation of even a self-proclaimed nonexpert like Jimmy Carter was welcomed. Though some saw another meddlesome chef stirring the Balkan broth, most officials were willing to try anything. to break the stalemate. Said Peter Galbraith, the U.S. ambassador to Croatia: "This broth is so foul, I can't see how anyone can spoil it further."
