Sugar Coated War

About the Book

Primarily set in the besieged city of Sarajevo, the Bosnian capital, during the break up of the former Yugoslavia, Sugar Coated War is a personal story and a factually based account of the Balkan War, as seen through the eyes of an International Aid Worker. This book clearly illustrates both  the tragedy and barbarism of this gruesome conflict. A war fought with 1940s technology and tactics, along with a medieval, often-brutal mentality.

www.sugarcoatedwar.com

About the Author

John Breardon was born in central England, in 1965. He has a sister Julia and half brother James. Following the early divorce of his parents, he spent time living between them. At the age of ten, after a minor disagreement with his father’s new wife, John found himself completely ostracised from family life. His father distanced himself from the situation, offering little support to his only son. He was merely tolerated within the household and fended for himself. Cooking, washing and ironing soon became a way of life at this impressionable age. In March 1979, his father gave him an ultimatum that, if he didn’t leave voluntarily, he would hire a van and deliver all his belongings to his mother’s home. Two days later, John left, knowing to stay would serve no useful purpose, and would in fact jeopardise his father’s new marriage. Now living at his mother’s home, the next four years were spent defending himself and protecting his mother against a violent, drunken husband and stepfather. Despite loving his own son James, he physically and mentally tortured his mother, and treated John with utter disregard and contempt. His mother made great effort to provide for her family, which to her credit she did; nevertheless, they lived in near poverty. John resorted to stealing out-of-date cakes and pies from a skip at the local supermarket, where he worked as a Saturday boy. John’s older sister Julia, left home and married at the age of eighteen and has since divorced - twice. As was the case at his father’s home, John lived with fear and uncertainty, once again excluded from family life. However, he built strong links with his friends, and, as time went by, came to rely upon the hospitality and generosity of his friends’ families. At the age of seventeen he became homeless. His mother’s new husband had finally convinced her that his alcoholism, and violent behaviour, was simply due to John’s presence. In fact, the beating and abuse of his mother, had been going on for many years, prior to John’s arrival. The mistake in his stepfather’s eyes was that John, within days of arriving, had defended his mother against a violent attack: utterly defying him. John’s belongings were packed into black disposable bin bags and left on the pavement outside his ‘home’. A short time was spent sharing a locally rented garage with his cherished Honda motorbike, before being offered temporary lodgings by Richard and Edna - dearly loved parents of an ex-girlfriend. A couple of days later, John returned to his mother’s house to collect some more belongings. As he approached the front door, he saw his mother through the frosted glass, and heard her fearfully say, ‘Oh no it’s John, what’s he want?’ as his drunken angry looking stepfather stood overlooking her from the top of the stairs. Quietly, John walked away, avoiding confrontation, leaving his last few remaining possessions. From that moment on, having virtually no contact or support from his own father, he was entirely alone, and vowed never to look back; or allow himself to ever become so vulnerable again in life. Richard and Edna looked after him well, helping him find more permanent accommodation in the local YMCA - they had no room to spare. The whole experience made him an extremely determined and indomitable young man. Soon after, John joined the Royal Engineers Territorial Army, (The British equivalent of the American National Guard). This gave him the structure and identity that he badly needed. It was to provide a useful grounding in discipline, and introduced him to various weapons, and indeed their destructive potential. The military training, combined with schooling and qualifications in combat engineering, a heavy goods driving licence and cross-country driver training, helped rebuild his shattered confidence. However, a set back was soon to follow. Whilst on a training exercise with the TA in February 1984, John was struck by a speeding car, incurring serious multiple injuries. He awoke semi-conscious, finding himself naked on a cotton sheet draped over what felt like a cold concrete slab. Lifting his head, interrupting the nurse who was standing over him sewing a gash above his left eye, he stared in painless disbelief at a Doctor, screwing a pin through his left leg. In his confused state, he believed he was already dead in a morgue and began to think… ‘Well, if I’m going to die, at least I’ll die being cared for.’ This was the first time in many years that he really felt cared for. It was a realistic and comforting feeling, as he closed his eyes in a peaceful acceptance of his fate. A welcoming sense of calm settled upon him, as he slipped back into unconsciousness - a safe and serene illusion. Some time the following day, he awoke to find his left leg suspended in traction, head heavily bandaged, his nerve damaged left arm completely useless by his side; intravenous drips attached to both arms. In disbelief, his father stood at his bedside. Maybe some good had come from the accident. He did care after all… It was to take more than two years of determination, and painful physiotherapy to recover from the injuries sustained to his head, left arm, and leg. He was lucky to have professional help almost immediately at hand from his Troop Sergeant (Eric Hargreaves) and the British National Health Service. The prompt attention he received was in stark contrast to what he was later to witness in the conflicts that he was soon to participate in, both on the scarred streets and countryside of the war in the Former Yugoslavia, and subsequently the fighting and civil uprising in Albania. Both entirely different kinds of war. After the degrading experience of youth, an opportunity arose for him to finally establish himself, and achieve some sort of approval and recognition that most young men aspire to. Possibly having more meaning to him, than most people of his age. To accomplish this, he was quite willing, if necessary, to pay with his life. He joined the Global Relief Organisation in March 1993, and worked as an aid worker, in the war in Bosnia, Croatia, and Serbia, often finding himself in hostile and life threatening environments and leaving an indelible impression upon him. Whilst in Sarajevo, he was the only Global Relief Organisation worker permanently based in the city at that time. He returned home to England in August 1995 after completing his contract, subsequently joining the British Police Force. In the summer of 1997, he left the police after becoming somewhat disillusioned, and returned to the Global Relief Organisation, this time working in Albania. He has since made several television appearances and given numerous BBC radio interviews on the subject. To this day, he remains unmarried, and lives in a modest terraced cottage, in a semi-rural part of the United Kingdom.