Months ago we received an invitation from Asim on behalf of the Council of Disabled War Veterans of Zavidovići for a mixed veteran group and the CNA team to visit this town on 29 June. That day was to mark the anniversary of the Battle for Site 715 on Podsijelovo Hill on the outskirts of Mount Ozren which stretches across Doboj-Maglaj-Zavidovići-Vozuća-Banovići-Gračanica.
Anticipating the summer heat and given that the site was quite remote for participants from Serbia and Croatia to travel just for a one-day event, and in view of the fact that access to the Site was physically demanding, we decided to form a smaller group with war veterans from BiH, representatives of VRS, HVO and AR BiH.
We arranged to meet on the morning of that day at the hotel in Zavidovići. Asim and me found Anđelko waiting at the hotel, and Pajo, Mirko, Đoko, Ljuban, Narcis and Ado soon joined us. Once we were all together, it was as if we had seen each other just the day before and were now picking up the conversation we started then.
We talked about the programme and protocol for the event knowing that this was a hard-liner type of commemoration of a date from recent history, with clearly expressed nationalist and military colouring. But we had gone through all that at our trainings and meetings, so we spent the rest of the morning before departure engaged in small talk over coffee. It was not for nothing that one of our war veterans commenting on what we were prepared to do together said that nothing could stop us because we were already veterans of veteran actions.
Site 715 is some twenty kilometeres from the town, so we split up into three vehicles and were on our way.
The road runs along the valley of the Krivaja River for about twelve kilometres before it starts zig-zaging uphill along Laz, as the locals call it after an eponymous village that stretches all along the hillside. Driving up that incline, I though about all the times I had watched this landscape from the back of a truck, through a window made by pulling the tarp away at the edge, jostling on the benches with my fellow fighters during the war. What a coincidence, I thought, back then I looked backwards while moving forwards, and now I am looking into the past so as to better drive into the future.
We arrived at the village of Hajderovići, a place where we were to return after visiting the Site and attend an event called June Resistance Days that provides the framework for the commemoration of the Battle for Site 715. All these villages and hamlets make up one of the largest local communities in BiH – Pašin Konak, which had a population of some six thousand according to the last census from 1991. Everything was ready – the barbecues and roasting spits, the ice-cream and candy floss stands. There was even a merry-go-round. It is curious how among the people, events to mourn the dead are intertwined with festivities to celebrate things of this world through the décor of the village fair.
Arriving at the plateau of the Site, we saw a convoy of cars, buses and pedestrians.
We get out of the car and Ljuban, as the wises greying head among us says, “My friend called to tell me not to get off the road anywhere, who know how many were planted here, by both us and them,” alluding to the mines. And truly, wherever the grass was not cut or where the forest started, everything was marked by ribbons whose warnings sent shivers down one’s spine.
We climbed to the plateau, a spacious meadow, a plain. In the middle was a commemorative block, a few steps further an improvised rostrum with speakers and flags on poles. The central space was bordered by ribbons providing a narrow path up to the rostrum. In the background was a tent-covered kitchen with tables and benches prepared for an outdoor lunch of the host and guests.
A few hundred people had already gathered on the plateau. Asim approaches with a man he introduces as Amir Mujkić, a representative of the organising committee. Amir welcomed us and shook hands with everyone saying he knew who we were and what we did, that Asim had already filled him in. He said that during his speech he would be using the term aggressor, because he felt that’s what they, the enemy, were. We later concluded that he was fair, at least he said what he thought. He called over the young man in charge of protocol for the laying of the wreaths who asked us about how he should announce our group. We agreed it should be Centre for Non-Violent Action Sarajevo/Belgrade. We were also told that the programme did not foresee any of us addressing the gathering, but that we would be mentioned as a mixed group of veterans from BiH as was previously agreed with Asim. It was important for those gathered to see us as such, as a joint group made up of former enemies. Although we were ultimately never mentioned, through conversations with people following the programme, we found they knew who we were after all.
The host announced the arrival of participants to start the Ceremony. Soon we saw the front of the column with a motley of flags, both from the war, state flags past and present and religious flags. They were greeted by applause and the colour guard arranged themselves in front of the rostrum. The others gathered around the periphery of the designated central space. This was followed by a call to honour the killed by reciting the Al-Fatiha or taking a moment of silence.
Following the national anthem, participants were called up to lay their wreaths. We agreed that Ljuban, Mirko and Ado should go up on behalf of CNA. I tried to push through the crowd to take a few photos. The announcement of each group was followed by applause. I was taken aback because the applause seemed ill fitting to the occasion. I heard the host call Centre for Non-Violent Action from Sarajevo and Belgrade. Applause, loud. I see our three representatives walking up to the clock to lay the wreath. Like a member of the once Rumanian Sekuritatea I pricked up my ears and watched people closely for any reaction after Ljuban and Mirko crossed themselves. No one made any comments, everything was normal, without a moment’s pause.
With that part of the programme over, the second part started with salutes from the war commanders, which was an introduction to the History Lesson.
Those gathered were told the war story about the importance of this site for the Zavidovići area by Amir, the man who greeted us. At one point, he said that the plateau we were standing on was once overcrowded by dead bodies. That’s when the flashbacks started. I remembered my fellow fighters, from when part of my unit was transferred over to help with 715. I saw them again two or three days later with dulled eyes and sunken faces. They said it was no longer site 715, it was now 714. The shells certainly knocked off at least one meter. The only think they didn’t throw at them was an atom bomb.
Listening to Amir engrossed in the story where he was the protagonist, I felt like I was listening to a radio broadcast of a football match with the commentator’s voice becoming distorted in particularly suspenseful moments. He mentioned aggressors a few times, like he said he would, and once he even slipped up and said the so-called Republika Srpska, whatever, I thought, political relativisation. But he mentioned Chetniks about sixty-eight times. I asked Ljuban and Đoko how if was for them listening to this. Ljuban said, “Let the man speak, it’s his view of things. Doesn’t bother me.” Đoko added, “Me neither. I didn’t feel like that during the war, like a Chetnik”. Later Mirko said he had felt left out because the speaker did not mention Ustasha even once.
A series of speeches followed given by various officials and politicians. You got the general gist about the nature of the war in BiH with a view to the Declaration on the causes, nature and consequences of the tragic armed conflict in BiH from 1992 to 1995 adopted by the RS National Assembly just two days before. A clear message was sent that such an interpretation would never be accepted.
I think about the irreconcilability of ethno-nationalisms in this post-Dayton BiH, select memories of war that have petrified victims into a uniformly acceptable model. A model that leaves no room for the need for forgiveness and reconciliation with the other side and that is transferred to the coming generations. What of the model of co-existence? A strong state with a legislative and law enforcement apparatus as a guarantee to its citizens that they will not be killed, their houses will not be burnt, their property taken, that they will not be made to flee their homes? Is this to each his own model acceptable and end of story? These peoples are not chemical solutions that must be kept in separate containers to avoid a volatile reaction. What of a model for cooperation, prosperity…
After the closing, Amir came and invited us to lunch. We realised it was quite crowded and we were tired from standing for two hours, so we decided to head back to Zavidovići.
We went to a restaurant to sum up the day. We concluded we should continue our activities and that they do have an impact in the places we visit. People had approached us, asked about our work, expressed their support. Can it be a coincidence that at no point did anyone come to say we were doing something bad or wrong? We never had an incident, a curse or bad word come our way. There is no better sign that we are on the right track.
Even though our society is divided when it comes to attitudes towards the past war and stuck in a cycle of unilateral acts aiming to shift responsibility from one’s own side at the expense of others, these positive reactions give rise to hope.
We are prepared to go and promote the idea of reconciliation through the need to respect former enemies and establish trust and mutual relations that will articulate our common past without activating hatred. Asim mentioned that in the future it would be good to erect a memorial to Serb soldiers at Site 715, because they also suffered tremendous losses in those battles.
One of the ways for the roles of soldiers and their victims to be recognised and acknowledged on both sides is the possibility of jointly marking the casualties from intense battles. Considering your former enemy a man with a similar fate, with memories of losing his fellow fighters, spending days in the rain and freezing in the trenches, memories of the fear and hopelessness of war – is better for overcoming the trauma of war than the stereotypical preconceptions about irreconcilable foes. An honest man will treat crimes and criminals like something shameful, something detrimental to civilisation. What, then, is our problem? Wearing dirty underwear might hide our shame, but they’ll still ride up our cracks…
As the writer, himself a veteran and our colleague, Faruk Šehić says, “Oh, you who survived the war, leave all hope of ever getting out of it alive”.
Amer Delić