[RNajarian]

The Day My Dad Fooled the Russian Army
Dedicated to Dr. Vartkes Najarian MD FACS (1930-2023)

A true story based on a 1991 humanitarian mission to Nagorno-Karabagh

17 September 1991 Tuesday
I had just graduated from USC Dental School and was planning my first trip to Armenia with my parents. Mom and Dad had already been to Armenia eight times and were planning their 9th trip.

We were in my parents’ garage preparing for the trip. Dad was packing medicines, aspirin, bandages, gauze, surgical tape, splints, and sutures for the wounded soldiers. Mom was packing dolls, raisins, books, and small toys for the orphans in Nagorno-Karabagh.

The phone rang and we could immediately tell it was a long-distance call from the telltale sound of “click-static-click-static-click-static.” Renowned Master of the Arts, Dr. Zori Balayan was on the phone.

“Zori,” dad said loudly over the bad phone connection, “we’re leaving on Thursday, what do you need us to bring?”

“Guns,” Zori said, “Guns, the soldiers need guns.” Zori was referring to the Armenian soldiers defending Armenian lands from Azeri Turks who were attempting to conquer the small enclave of Nagorno-Karabagh.

Dad knew this. The Armenian warriors had the will, spirit, and determination to face the invaders, but lacked the proper equipment.

“Zori, I know, I know,” dad said, “. . . but where am I going to get guns from and how could I possibly bring them to you?”

Dr. Balayan responded, “I know Vartkes, but you asked what we needed. Have a safe flight. I’ll see you in Yerevan on Saturday.”

Dad hung up the receiver looked at my mom and said, “I wish I could get them some better equipment.”


21 September 1991 Saturday
Was it a coincidence or Divine foresight that when our plane landed at Yerevan International Airport on Saturday September 21, 1991, that Dad was the first visitor to the newly declared Republic of Armenia?

Meeting us on the tarmac were numerous Armenian dignitaries, Renowned Master of the Arts Dr. Zori Balayan, Vice Mayor of Yerevan Papkin Vartanian, and Professor Gourgen Melikyan, Honored Pedagogue of the Republic of Armenia. The four men greeted each other as family would, hugging each other and holding hands.

Dad immediately wanted to make sure the precious cargo of medical supplies and gifts for the orphans were properly removed from the airplane and readied for transport to the war zone.

Dad had a legal pad with him and made sure each of the 20 boxes he had packed back in his garage were accounted for. On the legal pad was the box number and a manifest of what each box contained.

Zori looked over my dad’s shoulders and asked, “No guns?’ Dad looked down and shook his head.

28 September 1991 Saturday
For the first week of our trip we remained in Yerevan, the capital of the newly declared republic. Dad and mom had meetings with the Defense Minister, the Health Minister and even the President of Armenia Levon Ter-Petrosyan. With him at each meeting was his legal pad. At every meeting dad asked, “What do you need?” He took copious notes in the hope he could deliver on the many requests the ministers provided.

Our trip to Nagorno-Karabagh would be by air. The only land route to Karabagh, the Lachin corridor, had long been blockaded by the Azeris, making the only means to Nagorno-Karabagh a dangerous flight by helicopter. The Azeris, realizing the only lifeline to Nagorno-Karabagh was by helicopter, strategically placed anti-aircraft weapons along the route.

Our departure to the war zone was delayed several times due to the weather. Too much fog and the helicopter could not navigate using VFR flight rules. (VFR- Visual Flight Rules; basically, this means that the pilot looks out the window and flies the aircraft without the benefit of instruments or IFR). Too little fog and the Azeri invaders would easily see and be able to shoot down our helicopter.

Several times we got to the airport ready to begin our journey to Nagorno-Karabagh only to have the flight cancelled due to too much or too little fog.

End of Part 1/6