We returned to my room, where we waited anxiously with our colleagues. Through Milosevic’s windows across the parking lot, we could see the two Presidents walking back and forth, gesturing and apparently yelling at each other. An hour passed. Finally, someone glanced out the window and said, in an almost awed voice, “Look at that!”
It was, indeed, an amazing sight. Milosevic and Tudjman were walking side by side, almost shoulder to shoulder, across the parking lot toward our building. The rest of our team quickly slipped out the door, while Christopher, Hill, and I awaited our guests. After a moment the two Presidents entered and sat down facing us on a small sofa. Seated so close that their knees were touching, the two men seemed like schoolboys proudly reporting to the teacher that they had finished their homework. “We have solved the problem, Mr. Secretary,” Milosevic said. “We can agree to your formulation. However, we need a few days to work this out so that it looks like the issue was determined by the local leaders in eastern Slavonia.” Tudjman nodded, but said nothing.
This did not seem specific enough; experience had shown that if there was an escape hatch, someone would use it. “Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but the Secretary of State will return here Monday on his way to Japan. When he gets back, eastern Slavonia must be completed so that we can move on to our main work.”
Looking straight at Christopher, Milosevic said, “The two of us pledge that it will be finished, completely finished, in seventy-two hours.” Again, Tudjman nodded in agreement. As soon as the meeting ended, he sent one of his closest aides, Hrvoje Sarinic, back to Croatia to make sure everything went according to plan.
With the negotiations moving to a new level of intensity, I could no longer reserve an hour or more each morning for the daily Contact Group meeting. The less time I spent with the Europeans the more upset they became, but the more time I spent with them the less we accomplished. But we could not ignore the Europeans, so I asked John Kornblum, who had arrived with Christopher, to remain in Dayton. Although this left the European Bureau almost leaderless in Washington, it freed up a great deal of time for me to work directly with the Presidents, while John handled the Contact Group and other duties. We kept Carl Bildt closely informed of our activities, and left it to him to inform the other Europeans. We knew this would leave bruised feelings among a few Europeans, but there was little we could do about it.
The lesson from Christopher’s trip was clear: he should visit Dayton only when a problem was nearly solved, so that he could push it across the finish line. Summarizing the mood in Dayton that day, General Kerrick discerned a cyclical pattern in our moods that he jokingly speculated was “directly linked to tidal Potomac.” “Every twelve hours [we are] sure we will fail,” he wrote, “only to find real chances for success at next high tide.”
When I called Kati late that night, I said that the next week would probably be decisive—but could go either way. “If these guys want peace, they can get it in a week,” I said. “If they do not, we could be here for a year. We do not want to return to the shuttle, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in Dayton.”
DAY ELEVEN: SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11
The weather was miserable. A sleeting rain came down intermittently during the day, and the wind made it feel colder. The short walk from our quarters to Packy’s left us shivering and wet.
In the late morning, Tudjman placed a wreath at the Wright-Patterson memorial to the American war dead. Alone of the leaders present, he had remembered that November 11 was an American national holiday—Veterans Day, or Armistice Day to an older generation, which, like Tudjman, would forever know the eleventh day of the eleventh month as the day World War I came to an end. General Clark and I drove with him to the memorial, which was next to a replica of a briefing hut used by pilots during World War II. As we sat on wooden benches in front of an easel showing targets for a 1945 bombing run over Germany, Tudjman made an impassioned speech stressing his own role as a member of the anti-Nazi resistance in World War II. This was part of Tudjman’s effort to emphasize that he had been an opponent of fascism, so as to counter widespread international criticism of him for rehabilitating the pro-Nazi Ustasha regime of 1941–45—an action he presented as nationalist but others saw as racist and anti-Semitic. His own television crews filmed the entire scene for home consumption, as the rain pounded on the roof of the small shrine.
Tudjman was feeling good—as Galbraith might have said, he was on “one of his highs.” He sat in his room savoring his impending triumph on eastern Slavonia, which would complete his liberation of the territories lost during the 1991 war with Serbia. But reports from Galbraith were confusing; the local authorities in eastern Slavonia had apparently not received the order from Milosevic to sign the agreement, and Peter, shuttling between Zagreb and eastern Slavonia in bad weather, feared that the agreement being discussed in Dayton was not going to be accepted by the local authorities. When Hill and I complained strongly to Milosevic, he laughed at our concern. The deal, he said flatly, was done. Galbraith confirmed this by phone later that day.
For Milosevic, the key to the agreement was that it would be signed far from Dayton by a local Serb leader. While Milosevic wanted credit in Dayton for the breakthrough, he did not want his fingerprints visible in the region. For Tudjman, the results were spectacular: he would get eastern Slavonia back without a war. For the United States, it meant that we had successfully brought a part of Croatia back to its rightful owner without another war, one that had seemed inevitable only weeks earlier. In so doing, we had also settled an issue that was an absolute prerequisite to the broader peace.
The main beneficiaries of the agreement would be the Croatians and a significant number of ethnic Hungarians who had lived in the area before 1991 and would now be able to return to their homes. But the agreement would not have been possible unless the Croatians had also guaranteed the rights of the Serbs in the area, who feared, with reason, that they would be driven out once Zagreb took over. Given the brutal manner in which the Croatians had treated the Serbs in the other areas they had “liberated,” this was not an unreasonable concern. The problem was still alive in May 1997, when, during a trip to the region, the new Secretary of State, Madeleine Albright, publicly criticized the Tudjman government for violating the rights of the Serbs of eastern Slavonia and other parts of Croatia.
The November 11 eastern Slavonia agreement gave Dayton instant credibility after eleven days of stalemate. We hoped it would stimulate a productive map discussion. But when the maps came out, we hit the wall again, just as we had during the six-hour map session three days earlier. There was no momentum—no carryover from eastern Slavonia, no value from the progress we had made on political issues.
Milosevic began what Kerrick called “the day of the maps” by presenting us with one that was ludicrous. When I showed Milosevic’s map to Izetbegovic, he reacted badly, adding to the tension inside the Bosnian delegation, which seemed to be getting worse. Silajdzic sat in his own room, six feet across the hall, watching us come and go with maps, but he did not join us, so after the meeting with Izetbegovic I went to see him.
“What’s going on here?” I asked. “Why aren’t you in these meetings? We’ve started the map discussions and you are not even in the room.”
Silajdzic was visibly depressed. His mood seemed to combine despair and barely suppressed fury. “You see what I’m up against! I don’t know what’s going on in there! You see what a terrible mess they are making of this?”
“You have to get back into this thing, Haris,” I said. “Your country needs you, and so do we. In forty-eight hours Secretary Christopher returns here. If there is no progress, I am going to recommend to him that we close this down—”
“Suspend it or end it?” Haris asked, calming down a bit. It was the same question that our team had been debating.
“I think suspend. Maybe resume the shuttle. I’m not sure.”
“That’s wrong,” Haris said e
mphatically. “Threaten to end the conference once and for all. That will get his attention.”
Silajdzic’s point made sense. I went directly to Milosevic’s room and told him that unless he took the territorial issues seriously, we would consider closing down the conference.
“It’s the fault of the Muslims,” Milosevic replied. “They are pigheaded and stupid. They—”
“That’s not the issue. We need to make progress, or else shut down. The time has come for private, face-to-face talks between you and the Bosnians. I suggest you start with Silajdzic. He’s in his room. Will you see him right now?”
I went back to the Bosnians, dropping in on Izetbegovic to get his approval for the meeting. Izetbegovic, seeing the advantage to himself if Silajdzic took the lead—and therefore the risks—on the territorial issues, readily agreed.
As Silajdzic and I walked through the rain and sleet to the Serbian building, with the precious maps covered in plastic, I put my arm on his shoulder and said, “Haris, this may be the most important meeting of your life, and if it works, there will be more like it.” He nodded silently. “I’m going to leave the two of you alone,” I said as we reached the door of the building. “Just one thing, Haris. Please do not lose your temper. Hang in there. If it is anything like some of our sessions with Milosevic, the meeting may begin to get interesting just when you think it is over.”
I went out for a rare treat—a relaxed dinner in town with some colleagues. When we returned late at night, we heard that the two men had spent over two hours alone together. It was too late to learn more until morning, but that, at least, seemed encouraging.
DAY TWELVE: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 12
The day began with long-awaited news from Croatia: the fourteen-point agreement on eastern Slavonia had finally been signed. There was elation over the agreement in Washington, Zagreb, and Western Europe, and resignation among the Serbs. “I think we have experienced the start of the end of the war in the ex-Yugoslavia,” said the tireless Thorvald Stoltenberg, who witnessed the agreement on behalf of the United Nations in the region. President Clinton called it “a major step toward peace.”
A Visit from the Families. This particular Sunday would always remain special in our memory because of the visit to Wright-Patterson by the widows and children of Bob Frasure, Joe Kruzel, and Nelson Drew.
December 31, 1992. With Lionel Rosenblatt, president of Refugees International, in Kiseljak on the road to Sarajevo, just before entering Serb-controlled territory. In the background, a U.N. soldier heads for his compound.
September 1994. In Mostar, standing on the makeshift bridge that replaces the ancient one that was the city’s symbol, with General Charles Boyd, Deputy Commander-in-Chief U.S. Forces Europe, during a trip just prior to becoming Assistant Secretary of State.
August 21, 1995. Andrews Air Force Base: Kati, the author, and Strobe Talbott. WASHINGTON TIMES PHOTO.
August 21, 1995. A decisive moment: President Clinton pulls the government and the negotiating team back together in a dramatic meeting in a small room behind the chapel at Fort Myer immediately after the memorial service. Clockwise from the President: Tony Lake, General Wes Clark, Leon Fuerth (standing), Leon Panetta (partially hidden behind Clark), Warren Christopher, Chris Hill (standing), General Don Kerrick (standing), CIA Director John Deutch, the author, William Perry, Jim Pardew (standing), Madeleine Albright, General John Shalikashvili. Just out of camera range to the left were Sandy Berger and Strobe Talbott. WHITE HOUSE PHOTO.
August 28, 1995. With Bosnian Foreign Minister Muhamed Sacirbey in front of the Crillon Hotel in Paris hours after the marketplace bombing in Sarajevo. We are awaiting word as to whether or not there will be NATO bombing. In the background, Ambassador Pamela Harriman and, far right, Robert Owen, AP/WIDE WORLD PHOTO.
The team on the plane. Left to right: General Kerrick, General Clark, Jim Pardew, Chris Hill. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO.
October 5, 1995. Outside the Bosnian Presidency in Sarajevo. Carl Bildt (behind author); General Clark and Jim Pardew (right background) conferring with Bosnian officials. REUTERS/DANILO KRSTANOVIC/ARCHIVE PHOTOS.
October 16, 1995. A typical scene during the shuttle, taken leaving the Quai d’Orsay after a meeting with French Foreign Minister de Charette. Left to right: Chris Hill, Lt. Col. Dan Gerstein (recovered from his injuries on Mt. Igman), the author, General Clark (on the phone), General Kerrick, Jim Pardew. AP/WIDE WORLD PHOTO.
November 28, 1995. Discussion of U.S. force levels in Bosnia in the Oval Office. Chart shows a possible drawdown schedule for IFOR based on a twelve-month withdrawal plan. WHITE HOUSE PHOTO.
February 20, 1996. Reporting to the Principals Committee in the White House Situation Room, one day after the Rome compliance summit and one day before I left the government. Left to right at the table: the author, Deputy Director of Central Intelligence Admiral Dennis Blair, General Shalikashvili, Secretary of Defense Perry, Vice President Gore, President Clinton. Left to right, behind the table: General Clark, Undersecretary of Defense Walt Slocombe, White House deputy press spokesman David Johnson (standing). Back to the camera: OMB Director Alice Rivlin.WHITE HOUSE PHOTO.
April 4, 1997. Two guys on crutches, taken during a White House ceremony. (Paul Nitze is in center background.)
WHITE HOUSE PHOTO.
August 7, 1997. A meeting of the joint presidency in Sarajevo during a return trip as special envoy. Left to right: the author; Robert Gelbard, the implementation “czar” for the United States; and the three “co-Presidents”: Izetbegovic, Zubak, and Krajisnik. This photograph was taken at the start of a ten-hour negotiating session that ended at 4:00 A.M. AP/WIDE WORLD PHOTO.
A Dayton Portfolio
October 31, 1995: The core team arrives at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Left to right: Hill, Kerrick, Clark, Owen (partially hidden), the author, and Pardew. At Pardew’s left is Lt. Gen. Lawrence P. Farrell, Jr., base commander and Joe Kruzel’s brother-in-law. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/S. SGT. BRIAN W. SCHLUMBOHM.
November 4: Before a private dinner, Milosevic and the author argue over the release of Christian Science Monitor journalist David Rohde, who is being held in a Bosnian Serb jail. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/S. SGT. BRIAN W. SCHLUMBOHM.
November 8: Milosevic and Izetbegovic lead a group from the barracks to the Hope Center to begin discussions of the map. The remarkable rapport the two men show—Milosevic laughing, apparently at a comment of Izetbegovic—will disappear within hours, and they will almost never meet face-to-face again. The author is far back, talking to Silajdzic. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
Warren Christopher meets with the Contact Group in Carl Bildt’s suite. Left to right: Christopher, Jacques Blot, Wolfgang Ischinger, Igor Ivanov, Pauline Neville-Jones, Bildt. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
An American staff meeting over sandwiches and soft drinks at the Hope Center. Left to right: the author, Hill, Kerrick, Ambassador John Menzies, Rudy Perina, David Lipton (U.S. Treasury), Nick Burns, policy planning chief Jim Steinberg, Christopher, Chief of Staff Tom Donilon, Assistant Secretary of State John Shattuck. Also present were Robert Owen, John Kornblum, and Wes Clark. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/S. SGT. BRIAN W. SCHLUMBOHM.
November 12: The core team meets in the author’s suite as the map discussions begin. Clockwise from lower left: Pardew, Perina, Kerrick (leaning forward), Clark, Rosemarie Pauli, Owen, Hill, the author, Menzies. The issue is the width of the corridor linking Bihac and Sarajevo. STATE DEPARTMENT PHGTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
November 14: On a typically windy Dayton day, Christopher and the author, carrying a map, walk from the Bosnia delegation building to see Milosevic, STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
November 17, 1:00 A.M.: Drawing the map. As Milosevic stares at the high-tech computer screen, the search for a secure path to Gorazde continues. Left to right: Kerrick (back to camera), Menzies, Clark, Perina, the author, DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE.
Novembe
r 20, 2:00 A.M.: Milosevic and Silajdzic, negotiating in an American conference room, close in on an agreement that would last thirty-seven minutes. Left to right: Silajdzic, Milosevic, Clark, Christopher, the author. In the left background, Bosnia’s main map expert watches to make sure that Silajdzic does not give anything away. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
November 20, 4:05 A.M.: The negotiators toast the Milosevic-Silajdzic agreement, sipping wine from Christopher’s personal supply. (Christopher is at author’s right, just out of the photograph.) The author watches without drinking, concerned that the “agreement” is somehow flawed. Left to right: the author, Clark, Hill, Silajdzic, Milosevic. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
November 20, 4:15 A.M.: Ten minutes later, the negotiators relax during the lull before the storm. Silajdzic is asking Izetbegovic’s interpreter to wake up the Bosnian President so he can review the agreement. Moments later, Izetbegovic and Croatian Foreign Minister Granic arrive, and the agreement blows up. Left to right: Christopher, the author, Clark, Hill, Silajdzic, and Milosevic. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
November 20, midafternoon: Reconvening in the author’s suite after the disaster of the previous night, Izetbegovic and Milosevic go at it again. Milosevic is pushing hard for an agreement, but as the photo shows, Izetbegovic has withdrawn. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
November 21, 11:45 A.M.: Donilon, the author, and Christopher watch President Clinton announce the agreement from the Rose Garden as Christopher works on his own remarks for the afternoon ceremony. STATE DEPARTMENT PHOTO/ARIC R. SCHWAN.
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