Contact Douglas
140,000 people were killed in the Yugoslavia war. Finding a definition for this war is hard. Experts ponder about religious geography. Others incite quests for independence. A crisis emerged from the breakup of Yugoslavia. Different Yugoslavia provinces declared independence and formed alliances. The war sparked bitter fighting, random shelling, mass rape, ethnic cleansing, the Srebrenica massacre and pancaking of houses.
Sometimes during the war, we called it low intensity but realizing war kills. You can get killed in wars in many ways. Fighting was localized in instances. A few shells kill. In some enclaves, they placed the landmines on top of the asphalt road to deter us from entering. Shelling would happen after breakfast, then after a few shots of slivovitz (plum brandy), and lunch; flighting would subside until afternoon.
You had to watch yourself carefully as fighting sometimes was not orderly and planned. It could be a skirmish. A few artillery rounds could pop off. You had to protect your back and be alert.
A friend needed a smoking break in the Bosnia countryside. They stopped on the roadside. He was enjoying his cigarette in the late afternoon. Random fighting was happening a bit away. Suddenly, a large whirling noise whizzed by him and blew through his Landcruiser. The anti-tank missile possibly a 90 mm. M79 pierced the outside skin, passed through the engine block, and exited the other side. He stood in fear and amazement. No one could believe. They entered the vehicle. The engine started fine. They were able to drive the 200 kilometers back to Belgrade without further incident.
Sarajevo was the scene of heavy fighting. It is one of the few cities with a mosque, Catholic church, Orthodox church, and synagogue in the same neighborhood. The city suffered a 1,425-day siege during the war. Signs from the 1984 Winter Olympics were riddled with bullet holes. Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated here on 28 June 1914 leading to World War I.
We were attending a meeting in Sarajevo at the WFP office. WFP distributed food for the population to survive. This was after the 28 August 1995 market attack which killed 43 people and injured 75 others. We heard a large explosive sound. We jumped for cover under the table not to get hit by propelling window glass. We realized it was a thunderstorm. A nervous laugh filled the conference room.
Sarajevo was dangerous even dining. A popular hillside restaurant served delicious food on the forest edge. The wartime city was known for snipers. Mountains and tall buildings create favorable sniper positions. Everyone called one of the streets, Sniper Alley. 225 people were killed there during the war. You drove fast and zig zag or being wiser sheltered in an armored vehicle. No sightseeing or cigarette break.
One summer night, many people crowded the outside terrace of the restaurant. They were enjoying good food and wine. The atmosphere was fun and jovial. A rifle shot from the hills rung out. A diner was killed instantly. The European just finished his entrée. The dessert menu had not arrived. The whole eatery cleared out instantly without anyone asking for their bill. So, the next time you dine, don’t complain about food or service.
We were driving our return through the Bosnian hills to Belgrade. We had been checking food distribution sites. We remained tired and hungry. We saw a small roadside eating place run by a family. Spring was still chilly but wooden table alcoves with a roof beckoned us. Marinated spring Bosnian lamb was roasting over a wood fire. Fresh vegetables grew in the family garden. Homemade wine in plain bottles was served.
The grandmother greeted us warmly. The place was empty. War creates no customers. She served a plate of steaming lamb. Another plate carried spinach, asparagus, onions, beets, eggplants, and tomatoes with local dips, garlic spread and hommos. Fresh pita bread was laid out. We were thoroughly feasting on fresh food.
We heard echoing artillery shells. We were used to this noise and would judge our danger zone align with risk. Shelling seemed to come closer. Everyone gulped more wine. The war was not over yet. We merrily enjoyed but shelling intensified and boomed loudly up the hillsides.
The grandmother rushed to our table. She declared it was best that we leave and continue our journey. Her concern for us was being trapped and not having an exit route. She was refusing money for abruptly ending our late lunch. We insisted to pay. Finally, we left money under a plate discreetly.
She bestowed us a warm goodbye and would pray for our safe return to Belgrade.
.png)
