Originally composed of ballistic nylon and, later, of a space-age material called Kevlar, invented by DuPont specifically to provide the motor vehicle industry with safer tyres, these vests had already saved several thousand American lives by the time we got together to go to Croatia, part of what had previously been called Yugoslavia,. Today, there is not a single law enforcement agency in the United States that does not insist on the wearing of body amour during the normal course of duties.

In going to Croatia, we would link up with a group of friends who had previously worked Angolan minefields. In doing so, Richard had a two-fold purpose. First, he believed he might be closer to solving the single biggest problem currently faced by mine-clearers when trying to destroy or lift these bombs: that of injuries to the head caused by close-quarter explosions. Second, he wanted to make a study of issues linked to the industry.

We had no idea of the immensity of the problem. It was only later revealed that something like three million mines were laid in Croatia, the majority along former battle lines. Both sides made liberal use of the bombs, which were quite often laid to protect specific defensive positions. They also had a role in areas of strategic and economic importance like railways, utility stations, pipelines and, for some obscure reason, even within the Plitvice National Park, which somebody explained was an infiltration route.

More importantly, most minefields were unmarked. Even where maps did exist, these were almost always inaccurate. Additionally, as a result of years of fighting, there was a huge amount of unexploded ordnance – UXO. There was more than 300 tons of the stuff in the one area around Dubrovnik alone.

Some idea of what was involved can be gained from the fact that at least 5,200 miles of Croatian territory was littered with mines. In addition there were 3,000 more miles that had to be cleared in Eastern Slavonia, the last Serb-held territory. Nothing about these problems could be regarded as small scale: for instance, more than 15,000 mines were laid in the area behind Sibenik, close to a popular tourist spot, the Krka waterfalls.

The mines took a terrible toll. In the decade after 1990, in excess of 1,000 people were permanently disabled, many with amputations. Other statistics state that more than 300 children were killed, with 1,000-plus injured by mines. A decade on, there have been many more casualties.

Through all this, Richard Davis hadn’t been inactive. Indeed, he’d already produced a reasonably effective counter to some of the antipersonnel mines that American, British and other coalition forces were encountering in Afghanistan.

What he’d done was to design a reasonably effective way to prevent soldiers having their feet blown off if they triggered an anti-personnel mine. I was fortunate to be involved in first-stage testing processes where explosives were used to establish parameters, all of which took place in the back yard of his home base in Central Lake, Michigan. My job was to take photos of what happened when he detonated a 4-ounce charge to try to destroy a simulated foot.

Richard’s thinking on this issue was basic. He created a series of pads that consisted of 40 sheets of Kevlar and which were carefully cut to a relevant boot shape; these would be inserted into the boot. Since the material is quite thin, it is not in any way uncomfortable. In fact, he made a pair of the pads for himself and he’d been wearing them for four months by the time I joined him. They were comfortable enough to be used permanently, he declared.

While 4-ounce charges totally destroyed the pad and the boot, the infantryman’s foot, battered, bruised and possibly broken, was saved. As he pointed out, the average former Soviet PMN anti-personnel mine contained roughly 1.3 ounces (0.216 kilograms) of explosives. The Italian Milelba ‘Type A’ mine was of a similar weight. And since the pads were able to withstand blasts of double that amount of explosives, he reckoned it would be comforting to the average grunt out on patrol to know that he might not lose a limb, or even part of one if he triggered an anti-personnel mine. Since then, the family company, Armor Express, also of Central Lake, Michigan, has gone into full production of these revolutionary little pads and Davis has patented his invention in 70 countries.¹ Also, scores were passed on to the Department of Defense for testing both in the United States and under combat conditions abroad. A Special Forces group at Fort Bragg received several sets for on-site evaluation.

This is no one-off fad: in 2009 Armor Express was awarded a fiveyear contract by the Pentagon to supply the United States Marines with combat jackets for use in hot spots like Iraq, Afghanistan and elsewhere. That is in addition to concealable body armour contracts from a host of law enforcement agencies throughout North America.

I put the idea to Richard, at very short notice, of the two of us of travelling to Croatia to do a survey of what landmine clearing entailed and he met up with me in London.

Being the more enterprising member of this two-man expedition, he flew in from Detroit with 800 pounds of excess baggage, almost all of it large sheets of Kevlar. These, he explained, would be used to fashion a ‘robe’ which, though not fully protective against a limited landmine blast, might increase the odds of the victim surviving more or less intact.

With bags, baggage and enough Kevlar to make hundreds of ‘vests’, we were finally ensconced in two of the finest suites in one of London’s best hotels. Meanwhile, I prepared travel plans for the next leg.

Obviously, with Croatia having just emerged from years of conflict, it wouldn’t have been wise to fly into Zagreb on a scheduled flight. All that Kevlar in our baggage – six or seven bales of it – would almost certainly have triggered questions. We could only imagine what kind of reaction our luggage might have generated among local customs officials: ‘Kevlar? Landmines? Clearing bombs…?’

This sort of thing was still very much restricted where we were heading, the domain of the sanctioned few whose job it was to deal with those problems. Ostensibly, because we didn’t have official permission for the task ahead, we intended to declare ourselves as tourists. Kevlar or not, we’d come to see the sights…

Finally we managed to work out something feasible. We’d go all the way across Europe by train, first by EuroStar to Brussels where we’d link up with the overnight express to Vienna. From there we’d take one of the smaller lines, across the mountains, through Slovenia and into Croatia. Our friends would be waiting for us at Zagreb.

It was one of the great journeys of my life, which says something because I’ve travelled a lot. We never skimped on porters and from London’s Victoria Station we were safely ensconced in a first-class compartment only minutes after a couple of black cabs had dropped us off.

It was the same in Brussels. The only difference then was that we had our own personal railway carriage for the duration, complete with mahogany-panelled deluxe suites and Fritz, a uniformed butler-type factotum, to attend to all our needs. He stowed the Kevlar, made up our beds, served drinks before dinner and then prepared a five-star meal which, when we eventually arrived at Vienna the following day, earned him a five-star gratuity.

One of the memorable occasions was throwing open the shades of my suite the following morning on the final leg east of Salzburg. We were high in the mountains and, it being summer, everything was lush and green. I was still in bed, drinking coffee that Fritz had served from a silver tray when I was suddenly greeted by a herd of deer pulling away from the train while racing up a fairly steep incline. What a magnificent sight: both unexpected and inspiring.

The tiny rail link across the mountains from Vienna to Slovenia’s Ljubljana was even more spectacular. It’s a beautiful part of the world, barely accessed by tourists even in high season. In places the incline was so steep that we might have stepped off the train and walked alongside our coach.