The Car Bomb
It was the early to mid 1970s and I was boy living in Greece with
my parents. I would play with the other boys in the neighborhood, some
American and some local. We dug holes, climbed trees and collected bugs. We
loved to explore and adventure through the neighborhood. One of the local
boys taught us to travel on the stone walls between the yards instead of
using the streets and paths to get around. That way we could explore entire
neighborhoods without ever going into the street.
But things weren’t always
entirely peaceful for young men and the political strife of the day often
impacted upon the children. There were problems at home including the
political coop of the National leadership and the conflict over Cyprus.
Further away were the conflicts in the Middle East with the Palestinians
and in Ireland
between Catholic and Protestant. These conflicts and strife spawned local
protesters who would often speak their opinions with violence.
These local
malcontents began making threats towards foreigners and Greeks who worked
with foreigners. American military and civilian personnel working in Greece were
briefed on potential threats and trained to check their vehicles for bombs.
My father showed myself, my brother and sister how to check our car for
tampering. We were told to not follow a schedule and trained to be a hard
target.
But
potential threats did not stop our play or keep us indoors. One day while
walking the walls, my friend told me about a cool duty he had been given.
Seems a US Military Officer had hired him to start his car every morning.
He was too young to be a driver yet it was one step closer to being grown
up to handle the keys. At first we were excited for him but then I became
very worried. Hadn’t we been told to watch out for threats of car tampering
and explosives? But the other boys laughed it off, nothing was going to
happen.
I wasn’t so sure.
If that Officer truly believed there was a threat, why would he hire a
Greek boy to start his car each morning? Either all the adults were lying
to us or this man was deliberately putting my friend in harms way. I told
my sister that I was afraid this man was going to get my friend killed. A
seed of doubt and mistrust in people’s intentions had been sown.
We continued to
walk the walls, explore construction sites and play as youth will do. And
my friend began his new duties. The next morning he went over to the house
and pick up the keys. He walked around the car making sure everything was
in place and nothing was in the drive to be in the way when backing the
car. This sedan was obviously a vehicle of someone successful and
respected. The fine German engineering, the solid construction, how the
door shuts soundly and securely, of course this man could be trusted.
And then one
morning something happened. My friend went out to start the car as he had
for the past several mornings. He circled the car once making sure the
driveway was clear and everything was in place. But a device had been wired
to explode with the turning of the ignition. And someone had packed way
more explosive than was needed to kill just the occupants of the car. My
friend sat down perched on the edge of the seat and adjusted the mirror
pretending to drive. But he didn’t have to just pretend. He had the key. He
could make this engine run.
With the turn of
the ignition, the bomb exploded, instantly killing the 10-year old boy. The
explosion was huge. The glass in the houses up and down the street was
blown out. The trees were denuded of their leaves. Debris and flotsam
filled the air and settled on the bare branches. The shell of the Mercedes sedan remained
burning and smoldering.
I thought I felt
the explosion. We were told by the grown-ups to stay away. I got the
courage up, and with some friends, made the two block trek using our paths
through the neighborhoods instead of the streets. And to our dismay we only
found tragedy and destruction. The sight was devastating, the glass blown
out of the windows, the stuff hanging from the trees, the smoldering wreck.
And my friend was dead.
The loss of my
friend deeply affected me. When we grow up we have many diverse and
challenging experiences. I have seen terrorism first hand and felt the pain
it brings. I have become a little more harden and a little more doubtful of
people’s intentions. I was a boy, living in Greece with my parents and I
had become a lot older.
- Rodney Jr.
