The few Veterans of the UNFOR action in Bosnia that I know will not talk about it, other than admitting they were there, which begs the question as to what hells they've seen.

Bosnia Blues
 

I know I'm a wreck as I
Shamble down the street
Avoiding the eye
Of any person I meet.
Sometimes I slaver
And talk to myself, 
Thoughts in my mind tumbling
Like books from the shelf.
And I'm losing the fight
For any self control 
Feel the depths of despair 
In my very soul.
I don't want your pity 
In my days of despair.
I'd just like to know that
There's somebody there
To say, ok my brother
I understand,
To be by my side to
Hold out a helping hand.
I stink more than smell.
I've just lost the power
To stand and wash and shave
Or stand in the shower.
It's wasn't always this way,
But now I endure my shame
From the horrors of Bosnia
Where I was sent in your name.
It's help I need
Not misguided pity
As I shamble along alone 
Through the streets of your city.