Reporter, Banja Luka, Republika Srpska
Issues 140-142, December 27, 2000

Gropa: Across the way from the terrorists

Dialog in silence

"For the most part it's quiet except for an occasional burst of gunfire.
'They're here. And so are we,' say the members of the Yugoslav Army"

By Vesna Torovic

It was a foggy and cold Sunday. The day of rest - but not for the young
men who, five kilometers from the administrative security zone, that is,
where they are allowed to be stationed, are defending Serbia.

Only 2,750 meters as the bird flies from the Pristina Crops is the peak
called Gropa and the Shiptar terrorists. The peak is just above Lucane;
it was held by our police until just before the end of November. Why and
under what circumstances the police withdrew remains unknown for now.

"Just look at them sitting there and reading the paper. The one over
there is doing the crossword. How are they supposed to watch the road?
And their daily wages are 580 dinars; ours are only 200," Colonel Djuric
and Djole "the Bomb" criticize the policemen on the local road as we
head out to their troops.

Migrations: Through the fog landscapes pass by typical of any village.
Ten or so ducks bob peacefully in the village brook.

Colonel Djuric, a native of Leskovac, tells us something about the
villages through which we pass. Like a tour guide of sorts. Only this is
no tour. Armed soldiers preceeded us down this road. Djole "the Bomb"
wears a bullet-proof vest. Just in case, he says. One never knows!

"The big, beautiful houses belong to the Shiptars. The modest ones, of
course, belong to Serbs."

"Colonel, are there Shiptars here?"

"Of course, not all of them have left."

The proof that the Serbs are still here are the pigs in the yards. Some
of them left. Most stayed. Waiting for the outcome. God willing they
won't have to go anywhere. They've had enough of migrations. Where could
they go?

Soldiers, both regular troops and reservists, and their officers are
hurriedly putting up fortifications in the camp on the hillside. The
foggy and cold day suggests that winter will be here right on schedule
and that all "construction projects" should be finished up quickly.

In the tent the aroma of freshly cooked coffee and a sort of heavy air.
There isn't enough light. Soldiers who are not on duty are resting on
the mattresses. A third of them spend day and night in the most forward
positions.

"Would you care for some coffee? It's freshly made. This stove does well
by us."

According to Serbian custom, it is rude to refuse coffee when you visit
someone's home for the first time. And it was good, military issue.

Zoran, the driver, a reservist, is a local. He serves the coffee as if
he were at home, like a good host: first coffee, then conversation.

A short distance away some soldiers get up. They are here serving their
mandatory military service. They seem almost too young to shave.

No secret: We wake Igor from Pozarevacki Aleksandrovac and Sasa from
Sabac with our talk. Nineteen year-olds. Their contemporaries in other
places live in a little differently.

"Guys, are you scared?"

"No, we're not scared."

"But there's terrorists just across the way!"

"Yeah, but we're still not scared. They try to scare us. At night they
beat on drums, they shout, they shoot, they play music. But they can't
get to us," the soldiers answer slowly and hesitatingly.

The reservists use the opportunity to quiz the colonel when and how
their wages will be arriving.

"I don't know. I have to check it out and then I'll tell you. I don't
want to lie to you."

The fog clears a bit but not enough to be able to see Gropa and the
Shiptar terrorists.

"At night they'll fire a couple of rounds, just to tell us they're
there. There's always about 20 or so terrorists on Gropa, same ones. We
watch them through our binoculars. They haven't fired at us," says Sasa.

Only a few hours earlier in the garrison at Bujanovac Colonel Cirkovic
said that the army had not been attacked, adding that it would respond
forcefully to any provocation. He also talked about terrorist camps at
Dobrosin, Konculj and Lojane in Macedonia.

"It's no secret; KFOR knows everything. The Shiptar terrorists are
getting their training from foreign instructors, that's why there is
some military logic in their moves. They are forcing the Albanians in
Veliki Trnovac, Mali Trnovac, Dobrosin, Konculj and other villages to
take up arms. Some locals volunteer to do it. We know that those in
Veliki Trnovac are refusing to. We drew an imaginary line some 15 days
ago in order to prevent further terrorist operations."

They're here: Djole "the Bomb" makes the soldiers laugh. He visits them
every day. He tells them anecdotes from previous wars.

"Come on, what do they missing out on? The food here's better than what
they would get at home. Look, they even give them "Politika" [daily
newspaper, the former mouthpiece of the former regime] to read. So they
know everything that's going on. Alright, so there's no cafes or similar
attractions. But what can you do. They're young, there'll be time later
on."

On the road to the most forward positions, I greet the builders of the
fortifications. They don't have time to talk.

Through the forest with an occasional ray of sunlight I arrive at the
sentries' positions.

"Boys, how's it going?"

"It's quiet. We can't see them because of the fog. But they're here. And
so are we. They can't get through."

Here, across the way from Gropa, our troops observe alertly. They wear
bullet-proof vests and they're well-hidden in the forests.

I don't know what to ask them. It seems sort of stupid to ask a man
holding a rifle whether he is afraid.

I leave silently, accompanied by a lieutenant. Besides my muddy shoes,
the foggy air is heavy, too. Even heavier is the knowledge that rifles,
snipers, mortars are pointed at these troops.

In the camp there is laughter. Djole "the Bomb" is still telling
"jokes". In fluent Vranje dialect, he tells stories of his experiences
while he was a soldier.

"So here you are. Alright, let's get going. We need to return the
vehicle so we're in a hurry."

Before leaving we have our photo taken as a memento. In front of a
camoflauged tank, of course.

As we return, we leave Veliki Trnovac behind, the same villages behind.
We arrive at the garrison where armored combat vehicles are parked at
the entrance.

And as I leave the Bujanovac garrison, I cross my fingers.

The boys keeping watch across the way from Gropa, neither here nor
there, deserve some luck.

Bujanovac again, a small town where only a day before the federal and
republic parliaments met. On that Saturday Bujanovac saw the president
and the prime minister and the ministers... Dacic was here, as well as
the omnipresent Rade Markovic. And many luxurious cars, mostly BMW's and
Audi's...

The Serbs and the Gypsies of Bujanovac are afraid, the Shiptars are not.
They answer every question by saying that everything is fine. They are
about 26,000 of them or 60 percent of the population. An accurate census
was never carried out.

Some one hundred Serbs greeted President Kostunica in front of the
municipal building. They are hoping that Serbia has to protect them.

"It's a relief to us to see that Kostunica will protect us. And the army
is here, too. If we could only force them to leave our land. We'll take
up arms if we need to to defend our homes.

They say that times have changed.

* * * * * *

Where other young men defend the homeland

WITHIN SNIPER RANGE IN LUCANE

"Could you hurry a little across the road; you're within sniper ranger
here!"

"Where are the snipers?"

"Here's a pair of binoculars. Look up there on the hillside between the
two poplars. You can see the loophole."

"I see a man. He's moving!"

"Ha, ha. Of course there's a man. The sniper rifle can't fire all by
itself now, can it."

Captain Nikola, the commander of the guard which secures the front line
in Lucane, all members of special forces antiterrorist units, says there
aren't a lot of provocations from the Shiptar side.

"We don't shoot either. We moved the line a little but we haven't
received orders to go all the way into the village."

Suddenly a bus from Gnjilane arrives from the side where the Shiptars
are and where the Shiptars from this side have fled. The policemen stop
it. Inspection. The bus goes on toward Bujanovac.

Then an automobile pulls up.

"Is there a checkpoint on the road from Gnjilane to Lucane?"

"In seven or eight places," the Albanian tells our policeman.

Another policeman neatly records the name of those who pass through the
checkpoint. All the names are Shiptar.

From this side, Lucane looks like a pretty village. Except for the fact
that it is divided into two parts. It also has a river, the Binacka
Morava, dividing it. There is a mosque, of course, as well. The only
thing Lucane has that other villages do not is loopholes and terrorists.
"Our" side is desolate. Only a few elderly people remain here. And the
police.

"Hurry up. You're within range here."

There's a dog in the road. He gazes sadly at his masters. They're here,
too, but in the part of the village under the control of the Shiptar
terrorists.

Translated by S. Lazovic (Dec. 31, 2000)