Thursday, March 22, 2001

By Ron Jensen
Kosovo bureau

Ron Jensen / Stars and Stripes U.S. Army Maj. Steven Katz calmed the fears of Arlind Sopi, 3, by giving him a stuffed bear Monday. Arlind had a fear of soldiers and was reluctant to approach Katz, a civil affairs soldier from Fort Dix, N.J. Joining them are Arlind's brother, Besjan, 6, left, and sister, Besjana, 7.

GNJILANE, Kosovo — Three-year-old Arlind Sopi approached only because his father did and the boy was attached with both arms to his father’s leg.

"I’m scared," he said.

His eyes were wide and his lower lip quivered. He appeared only seconds from crying as he scooted his tiny feet along the concrete floor, sliding along with each step his father made.

The object of Arlind’s fear was U.S. Army Maj. Steven Katz. Katz was in full gear — helmet, flak vest and the like — as is the requirement for troops who venture from the secure confines of the base camps.

Katz knew of Arlind. He knew that the boy had lived through the horror of the Serbian occupation and the NATO bombardment two years ago.

And he knew that the boy watched his town be invaded by thousands of U.S. soldiers when the bombing ended, big and hulking men in green clothes who rattled when they walked and appeared to come from some other planet to a boy barely 1-year-old.

"I’m scared," Arlind said again Monday as he reluctantly moved closer to Katz, a soldier with the 404th Civil Affairs Battalion from Fort Dix, N.J.

Katz is a reservist and has been in the country for five weeks. He is, in real life, a vice president for a steamship company that hauls containers across the world’s oceans. But in the uniform of his country, he is a soldier/problem fixer, a man with the answer to questions.

Just prior to stopping at Faik Sopi’s store, he had been in a meeting of the United Nations Mission in Kosovo, where individuals with a rainbow of accents spoke of problems with everything from health to education to public utilities.

They came from all across Europe, the Mideast and Africa, part of the international effort to bring stability and normalcy to Kosovo.

Katz and Sgt. 1st Class Harold Adams of the same unit spend a lot of time in meetings. They are the representatives of KFOR, the NATO Kosovo Force charged with providing a safe and secure environment in this troubled province so others can get on with their work re-building the nation.

"It’s a mixed bag," Katz said. "One day you feel you’re accomplishing something and you’re making headway. Then something happens that makes you take a step back."

He said an effort to clean up trash sites that seem to materialize overnight around here had been a success.

But two months later, the spots were once again strewn with trash.

"You take two steps forward, but then you take one step back," he said, shaking his head at the frustration that marks his job.

Adams first wore his country’s uniform in 1964 and did so during multiple tours in Vietnam. As a reservist, he has served as a civil affairs officer in various places, including Bosnia.

"I did most of my career as an infantryman, so it’s a little bit different," said the customer sales representative for a telecommunications firm.

"I tell people, I used to shoot people. Now I help them."

Nearly all civil affairs soldiers are reservists, he said, because they bring their civilian expertise to the job.

He is heavily involved in rebuilding the country’s telecommunications. Katz’ business acumen also serves him well.

"In places like Kosovo and Bosnia, we’re what’s needed," he said.

"It puts a positive face on the military. Instead of the guys with guns, we’re the guys who help."

The two men are both at ease walking through the busy streets of Gnjilane where they live at Camp Montieth. Katz shakes hands with several shopkeepers.

"It’s easy to get complacent in a place like Gnjilane," he said. "All the kids just love you. Most people are pleasant to you.

"But you never know when it will change."

At meetings, Katz and Adams are the lightning rods for KFOR.

When the subject was getting food to refugees, Katz was asked if KFOR can provide helicopters.

"You can ask, but I would not count on that at this point," he told the meeting.

After one meeting, he was approached by a man who talked of a petrol station on the road to Strpce in southwest Kosovo, not far from the border near the fighting in Tetovo in Macedonia. This petrol station, the man told Katz, has two large antenna.

"A petrol station does not need such antenna," the man said, suspecting that it is part of a communications network serving Kosovo rebels.

"I’ll pass that along," Katz said as he made a note in his ever-present notebook.

Katz was in between meetings when he stopped at the store and the father called upstairs for his son to come down.

The sight of Katz and Adams stopped young Arlind in his tracks and caused him to grasp his father’s leg.

But pushed by his father and coaxed by the smile and soft voice of Katz, Arlind approached the U.S. soldier.

When he did, Katz held out his arms and offered a teddy bear to Arlind, who took it and clutched it to his chest, but backed away from Katz.

The boy nearly smiled. Katz beamed. And then the boy who fears soldiers took two quick steps and hugged Katz as much as his little arms would allow.

For Katz, it was a step forward.

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