They really didn’t do anything. Kept me there about an hour then the first one walked out again, came back in, handed me my ID, and they let me go. Darn! I missed my bus; there was only one in the morning and one in the afternoon; my friends from the British embassy would already be on their way home; and I was left with no way back other than shank’s mare. So I started hoofing it.

No, we didn’t have cell phones, and the Bulgarians didn’t have pay phones except in the bigger cities. So I had a fifty-mile walk ahead of me. Hopefully my NCOIC would catch on that something was wrong and send out some scouts. No such luck. About two hours into my walk I stopped in a little lakeside cafe to have a beer and happened to run into one of the British attachés. We had a drink and I related what had happened and then he asked to see my ID. I handed it to him and, without looking at it, he opened it and turned it for me to see. The paper ID inside had been ripped out! Evidently this sort of thing had happened before because he knew exactly what to look for. The bad thing about that was that, had I been stopped by the police or militia, without a diplomatic ID I could have been thrown into jail for however long they wanted. I feel quite certain the Bulgars would have just said they never heard of me and I would never have been seen again. The Brit then gave me a ride back to the embassy.

George, whom I was supposed to relieve, was mad until I told him what had happened. I reported it to the NCOIC, then dressed, and stood post. When I got off I had to make a complete report to him and the political attaché. The following day another political type flew in from Frankfort, took my statement, and then left. The next day I had a new ID card and within a couple weeks I was given a letter of apology from the Bulgarian Foreign Ministry. Another thing that I have somewhere in the garage that I hope to find one day.

That’s a Wrap

Now, besides my kids, the whole world can see what an idiot I can be at times.