E. Timor horrors recalled

Tuesday, Oct. 19, 1999 | 11:10 a.m.

The bullets were flying so close to Tom Kinsella that he could hear them whistle past his ears.

But it wasn't the sniper fire raining down on the United Nations compound in East Timor's capital city of Dili that terrified Kinsella most.

It was the haunting memory of grieving families mourning the loss of their children to malaria that was so unsettling to Kinsella, 47, a member of the unarmed U.N. civilian police force sent to supervise an election in the former Portuguese colony.

While Kinsella comforted refugees who huddled in U.N. offices that were under fire night and day, his stomach churned. He knew he wasn't well. He also knew that he had been living since early July in a part of Indonesia that had the nation's highest death rate from malnutrition, tuberculosis and malaria.

"I was watching people bring in these very sickly children and I felt helpless," said Kinsella, who has a wife and two daughters living in New Port Richey, Fla., where he retired after almost 25 years with the Pasco County Sheriff's Department.

"I didn't have any food to give them and I'm not a doctor," he said. "I watched families bury five children, one of them 5 years old, two 9-year-old girls and a 14-year-old boy. They had all died of malaria within three days of each other."

Kinsella's mission to East Timor was his second with the United Nations. In March he returned to his Florida home after spending a year in Bosnia. Even the rioting in the war-torn European nation couldn't prepare him for the horrors of East Timor.

"Bosnia was like the Magic Kingdom compared to where we were," Kinsella said.

That turned out to be Hatalia, a tiny district near a stronghold for the anti-separatist militia.

After gaining its independence from Portugal, East Timor was invaded in 1975 by the Indonesian army. In May Indonesian President B.J. Habibie agreed to allow a U.N.-supervised independence vote for the East Timorese.

The U.N. contingent arrived in July and monitored the registration process and preparations for the vote.

Kinsella was part of CivPol, a civilian police task force contracted by the State Department to participate with the United Nations. Kinsella's group included election officers and U.N. volunteers from Pakistan and Brazil.

Kinsella was among 30 American police officers in the CivPol force, which consisted mostly of Australians. While the police officers served as escorts and ensured the safety of the U.N. workers, Indonesian police were assigned as security for the entire U.N. delegation.

The U.N. group at Hatalia lived amid poverty in a dusty valley thousands of miles from American soil. For six weeks Kinsella lived with no electricity, running water or showers. His single-burner kerosene cooker was used to concoct dishes of white rice, noodles and mystery meat -- goat, water buffalo and cow.

"I noticed the dog population of the village was decreasing, but I was afraid to ask," Kinsella said.

During his stay at Hatalia Kinsella began experiencing the fevers and the chills at night and when he saw the funerals by day.

But he pressed on, knowing that the election was nearing. Besides, the people in the villages welcomed the international presence of the U.N. and Kinsella enjoyed saying good morning to the villagers at any time of day, explaining that it was morning somewhere in America.

Kinsella said the Aug. 30 election day was one of his best days in the country. People living outside the village had come into the area the night before and campfires surrounded the region. The voting began at 6:30 in the morning and by daybreak, more than 1,000 people had arrived to cast ballots. Although there were reports of disruptions around the country, Kinsella's polling station was peaceful.

It was to be the last day of peace for Kinsella for more than a week.

When a U.N. helicopter came to pick up ballots, the militia was there to greet it. Militia members kept the helicopter from landing and the U.N. group scrambled to an alternate site to deliver the ballots just ahead of ranting militia members.

When the results of the election were announced, things got worse.

More than 75 percent of the East Timorese voted for independence. That angered the militia, which initiated random attacks. Kinsella said he once thwarted a kidnapping attempt by a militia group.

Soon the Indonesian police told U.N. officials they could no longer guarantee their safety. With communications cut off from the main U.N. compound in Dili and rumors flying that the city had turned into a riot zone, the group planned its evacuation back to the capital.

The 25-mile trip took more than an hour for the 22-vehicle convoy. After the harrowing journey Kinsella learned that the convoy had been targeted for an ambush. An alert Australian helicopter pilot spotted the nest of snipers setting up their weapons at a mountain pass ahead of the group.

The pilot buzzed the snipers and created a diversion that bought enough time for the convoy to pass through the area safely.

But members of the U.N. group had no idea what awaited them in Dili.

In the capital city a quarter of the buildings were ablaze, Kinsella said. Smoke enveloped the buildings that weren't on fire. Stores and bakeries U.N. staffers patronized had been burned to the ground.

Refugees spilled into the U.N. compound, many of them tumbling over barbed-wire fences. The terrified faces of inhabitants of a world gone mad were broadcast worldwide and Kinsella, sickened and exhausted, awaited the next assignment.

Although there was some satellite phone communication with the outside world, no one was able to use it to contact loved ones. Some messages were relayed by friendly ham radio operators.

"The shooting went on night and day," Kinsella said. "I've never heard so much shooting, including all the times I've gone out to the gun range. We'd go to sleep with shooting, we'd wake up with it. Occasionally, we were jolted awake by gunfire in the compound in the middle of the night. We could hear the bullets whizzing past and some of the spent rounds were landing in the complex."

Part of Kinsella's day was spent patrolling the perimeter of the compound. Those taking turns were constantly wary of gunfire from a nearby hillside. Occasionally, Indonesian police would spray gunfire into the hillside to keep snipers out of the area.

Meals consisted of a granola bar for breakfast, a can of beans for lunch and a canned rice dish heated over a Sterno can for dinner.

The convoys from the outlying areas arrived at the compound over the weekend. By Tuesday the entire city was on fire. A brand new school building near the compound was destroyed and a nearby radio station also was consumed by flames.

The sun turned blood red in the smoky atmosphere.

By Wednesday, supplies were getting dangerously low at the compound. Kinsella volunteered to join a convoy to make a run to a U.N. warehouse at the wharf in Dili, even though no one was sure what they would find once they got there.

"While we were driving to the wharf, we were surrounded by militia members on motorcycles, firing their weapons in the air," Kinsella said. "One of the militiamen cut us off and tried to stop the convoy. We didn't know what his intentions were, but one of them climbed on the side of our truck and looked inside. He was just a teenager, but he stood there glaring at us with hatred in his eyes. We never made it to the warehouse."

On Wednesday night U.N. leaders determined they were down to their last day of diesel fuel. After that the generator fuel tanks would run dry and communication with the outside world would be cut off.

"We were told a couple of times that we were leaving," Kinsella said. "They told us to have our one bag packed and ready. We were supposed to go out on Thursday. But at 4 in the morning, they said, 'Forget it.' Luckily, a supply plane from Australia arrived that day."

With the supply plane came an evacuation plan. While militia members were happy that the international community was leaving, they wanted the local staff to stay. The U.N. officials insisted for the safety of their colleagues that everybody be included in the evacuation.

Kinsella was with one of the last groups to leave the U.N. compound in Dili. Eight-truck convoys made their way to the airport from the compound and the 20 people per vehicle were instructed to lay in the beds of the trucks to avoid being easy targets.

Kinsella's last look at Dili reminded him of a combat war zone.

"For every building that wasn't burned, five were," he said. "After a while we were asking ourselves, 'What is there left to burn?' "

At the airport, Kinsella boarded an 80-passenger transport plane for the 1 1/2-hour flight to Darwin on Australia's northern coast.

At Darwin he met up with some of his Australian CivPol cohorts. It was then that he learned about the near-ambush that could have ended his life on the mountain pass outside Dili.

At an Australian emergency room he learned that he had been suffering from a bacterial infection that left him weak and dehydrated. He also was exhausted from days of sleepless nights under gunfire.

Kinsella spent several weeks recuperating in Darwin while his Florida hometown dodged a series of hurricanes.

Today, he's safely back in New Port Richey where, after spending tours in Bosnia and East Timor, he's getting ready to go back to something less dangerous -- possibly one of his part-time jobs, delivering flowers or selling concessions at Tampa Bay Devil Ray baseball games.

"I think I'm cured," Kinsella said. "After doing that, I can honestly say I don't have any desire to go back to U.N. work."

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