by J E Higgins
Sauwa took him by surprise when he felt her hand suddenly grab him. He froze and was about to voice a litany of abrasive words when he stopped at the sight of her index finger pressed tightly to her lips. She nodded over to the other side of the river and heard the sound of men speaking rather loudly. Both knelt down slowly and listened. The voices were coming from the tree line just above the embankment. Rustling bushes helped provide a more accurate sign of their location.
“Serbs!” Oleg blurted out in a shocked whisper. From the distance between them, it was impossible to tell who was there or what exactly they were saying. But Oleg’s assumption was reasonable. The two remained motionless in the bushes as they listened and waited. The bushes on the other bank continued to rustle indicating the Serbs were moving in the direction where they had left the men and the boats.
“I hope our guys didn’t disobey orders and start a fire,” Sauwa whispered back to Oleg.
“Shit! What do we do?” he asked nervously. “We have to hurry back and warn them.” He started to move, but Sauwa stopped him by taking his arm.
“Don’t be stupid,” she growled through her teeth. “We can’t do anything. We would expose ourselves moving as fast as they are going. Besides, even if we could, we wouldn’t get there quickly enough to do anything.”
“So, then what?” Oleg was shaking with anticipation.
“They’re on the wrong side of the river, and they don’t seem to be looking for anything in particular. If our guys are quiet and in the bushes where we left them, they shouldn’t be noticed. We press on as planned and finish the recce. Then we will double back and report to the others.”
Oleg didn’t like what he was being told, and his facial expression said as much. Begrudgingly, he nodded in agreement. The two held their ground as they waited for the mystery men to move on. In the meantime, they found protection behind a large feathery bush that concealed them like a shroud.
When they were sure the patrol was gone, they carefully stood up and continued their journey. Oleg was tense; he felt they had nearly been discovered and was looking around more carefully. He was certain a similar group was on their side of the river ready to spring at any time. Sauwa said nothing. She knew they escaped detection because the mystery men weren’t really paying attention to anything. Their lack of tactical discipline and laziness telegraphed the message they would be heard well in advance. They also appeared inclined to stay in the field away from the challenging bushes along the rim.
She said nothing. It would have been pointless to explain anything to him in his current mental state. She understood that Oleg remained concerned about his men and the possibility of an enemy patrol catching them off guard. In truth, she shared his concerns and would like to give them a warning. However, she also knew that they would never have gotten to them in time. The amount of commotion they would make trying to race back would have alerted the Serbs anyway. But since he was convinced he was somehow betraying them, her explanation would come across as rationalizing.
At another three hundred meters, they were just short of a rock ledge that towered over the river closing with the other side enough to make a narrow funnel-like passage. “If we get ambushed in there, we’ll be sitting ducks,” Sauwa exclaimed as she observed the passageway. “We have to see how far this narrows out and if anyone is up above.”
Oleg nodded as he gulped nervously. Sauwa led as the two began moving forward slowly. She kept her attention fixed on the cliffs above concerned that if someone were up there, they would easily be spotted. Traversing through the thickets they came to the base of a cliff. Circling around the base, they began working their way up the hill. Thankfully, the vegetation remained such that they were able to enjoy a fair amount of protection as they moved up.
Despite it being a small hill, it was steep ─ almost straight up. As tired as the two of them were, it was an arduous journey that slowly sucked away whatever energy remained. Halfway up the hill, the vegetation gave way to an open grassy field. Arriving at the bush line, they stopped. At Sauwa’s direction, they removed their packs and kits. Leaving Oleg to keep watch, she crept forward on her hands and knees, armed with only a knife and her Tokarev pistol.
Her movements were slow and precise as each step and hand placement was taken with calculated consideration. She was like a predator from the jungle preparing for the kill. Her sharp instincts were tuned for the slightest sound, an unfamiliar odor, or the sight of any movement. Digging the side of one foot into the soft earth and stabilizing her hands, she pushed her body forward. Sauwa continued this exercise step by step until she was near the top.
As the land started to curve, she was finally able to see over the top. As expected, there were two men dressed in camouflage fatigues and tactical gear sitting lackadaisically near a cooking pot hung over a small fire. Both men were hunched over with their elbows on their thighs and hands holding their sunken heads. Sauwa identified them instantly as Serbians. She assumed they were an observation team meant to keep watch on the river and the surrounding low ground. By the look of their makeshift setup, bedding, and dug-in fire hole, she figured they had been there for a while and were going to be there a while longer.
Though the men were bored and oblivious, they would certainly notice boats full of Croatians progressing down the river. They could also pick them off going through the narrow water passage or, at the very least, alert their commanding unit and give them away. It was a dangerous proposition nonetheless. Killing them was starting to look like a necessity. On the other hand, if they were sending regular radio checks and suddenly missed a report time that would prove just as dangerous if they were dealing with one of those rare units in the Serb army that were organized and disciplined.
Noting their radio was under the tent canvass propped up by their bedding, she figured such orderly protocols did not exist. Deciding to go for it, Sauwa slowly reached for the Tokarev tucked in her belt at the small of her back. She had dried it off and changed out the ammunition after spending the night in wet clothes. But not having any oil to lubricate it with and no chance to test it beforehand, she worried the weapon might not fire when needed.
Just then one of the men rose to his feet and started toward the cliff grumbling something in his language that she couldn’t understand. He stopped and began fumbling with his fly. The other man was still sitting with his back to her and only grunted in his response to whatever his comrade was mumbling about. Seeing her opportunity, Sauwa released her hold on the pistol and instead went for the knife on her belt. It was a long double-edged bayonet made for stabbing.
The first man continued until he was at the edge of the cliff. At the same time, Sauwa seized the moment. Moving quickly she placed the knife between her teeth to free up both hands. Clearing the last few feet, she took the knife from her teeth into her hand. She was less than five feet from the sitting man and silently closed the distance when he started to turn toward her.
Before he could complete his turn, her free hand thrust up from behind grabbing his head and pulling it straight back. He barely had time to understand what was happening when the sharp steel blade tore into the soft flesh of his throat and down into his chest cavity silencing any sounds he would have made in the last brief seconds of his life.
Holding him steady, Sauwa dropped down behind the man’s body. She kept him in a sitting position with her own body and, with her free hand, reached for her pistol. The man near the cliff’s edge had finished urinating and started speaking while he admired the view. He glanced back briefly to see his comrade still sitting. He did not notice his friend was sitting awkwardly with his arms dangling, or that there was an arm over his shoulder wrapped around his neck clutching the knife in his throat.
The man returned to the view breathing in the fresh air. He turned around again when his mind had fully processed the image he had just seen. By then Sauwa had retrieved her weapon, reached over the dead man’s shoulder took aim at the man on the cliff. She quietly prayed
it would fire. She did not relish taking a larger man head-on in a fight, and she didn’t have time to go for the rifle sitting several feet off to the side.
She fired a quick group of three shots. The first round missed by just an inch. The man continued his turn presenting a full silhouette; he was struck by the next two bullets. Both rounds landed in the softness of his lower stomach, and his hands dropped to investigate the sudden pain in his gut. Sauwa rose to her feet, taking the pistol in both hands aiming more carefully. She fired two more shots. This time both shots entered directly into his skull and tore through his brain. He fell back and dropped over the cliff.
Sauwa walked over to the edge to see the man’s corpse float slowly down the river. She had just finished tucking the Tokarev back into her belt when she heard a rustling noise behind her. She turned to see Oleg racing up the hill with his rifle clutched tightly at the ready.
“Is everything okay?” He asked in between gasps of air. He looked around observing the scene. He took in the body of the knifed man who was laid out like a rag doll with arms splayed. “He’s Serbian all right.”
“Yes,” Sauwa replied as she came back over to examine the dead soldier more closely. The few days of facial growth was nothing unusual. What caught her attention was the lack of any rank insignia on the man’s uniform. Though wearing military fatigues were common in the Serb army, too many things suggested that these two were not regular soldiers. Examining the site further, she saw a flag draped along the far side of the tent. It was black with a white skull and crossbones tucked between Serbian lettering that she couldn’t translate. “They’re not regular Serbian army soldiers, they’re Chetniks.”
Chetniks was a general name given to Serbian nationalist paramilitaries that had sprung up on their own at the start of the conflict. Called from the historic ashes of World War II, these groups had been partisans who had fought bravely against the Nazi invasion. In the current conflict, they were organizations of ultra-nationalists supporting the dream of a Serbian homeland free of Muslims, Croatians and any other ‘undesirables’. The Serbian government denied any connection to these groups, though it was common knowledge they gave them training and logistical support. In return, the paramilitaries gave cover to the Serbian government by performing the more criminal offenses of mass murder and ethnic cleansing. In the war with both Bosnia and Croatia, Chetniks were by far the most murderous and criminal. In the current conflict in Bosnia, it was estimated that there were some thirty-thousand Chetniks augmenting the Serbian army.
“Chetniks, you say!” Oleg exclaimed. His first nervous gasp was soon replaced by a look of sheer hatred. He marched over fired off a large wad of spit that landed with force upon the dead man’s head. He began growling out something in Croatian as he looked down at the body with deep contempt. He was about to start kicking the corpse when stopped by Sauwa, who sharply interjected. “Get a grip. We have more pressing matters to attend to!”
It took a little time for the Croatian to calm down. Eventually, he turned back to Sauwa. “Well, now what?” He was much calmer and working to regain the bearing of a professional soldier.
“From this, we know that the Serbs are operating on this side of the river.” She surveyed the landscape trying to determine if there were any enemy patrols close by and how exposed they were. “We can also assume these Serbs were who we encountered last night in that gunfight.”
Oleg wiped his mouth with his sleeve as he began to pace. Sauwa looked down the hill to see how far the narrowing passage could possibly go. To her dismay, it appeared the passage went on for a considerable distance ─ possibly a kilometer or two. She also studied the hillside to assess the landscape. From her vantage point, she could see both sides of the river. The hills seemed to consist of bare, open grass fields with very little other vegetation. It was not a situation she liked.
The enemy would be shooting downward from an elevated position giving them a significant advantage. What concerned her was that in the absence of thick vegetation, the boats could not navigate quickly past any ambush. Her initial plan anticipated the attackers would have to negotiate cumbersome foliage to continue an attack. On open grass fields, pursuers would be far more mobile. In this tight setting with fast moving water coupled with pockets of jagged rocks guarding edges of the shoreline, they could only run the boats at a minimum speed.
“We need to get off this ridge,” Sauwa commanded.
Oleg was still looking at the narrow water passage and how far it seemed to go. “This will be dangerous.” He explained as if trying to inform Sauwa of this reality.
“We’re hoping that no enemy will be up here lying in wait during the time we’ll be moving through.” Sauwa’s tone and manner of speech hinted at uncertainty. She glanced at Oleg and saw his look of defeat. Apparently, he expected she would offer a plan or explanation that would make the situation less hopeless than it was. She looked around the campsite. “These aren’t soldiers, they’re militia fanatics. As a rule, they tend to be more trigger-happy psychopaths than disciplined soldiers.”
Oleg perked up and started to study his cohort carefully. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that we are not dealing with a well-organized operation. I doubt that with all that’s going on, no one is really concerned with doing regular radio checks. They probably just placed these guys up here with orders to report any suspicious activity and forgot about them. If that’s the case, we have a good chance that these guys won’t be missed for quite a while. That gives us a window of opportunity.”
“Can’t we try and move at night?” Oleg asked, throwing out the idea.
“We’re in a bad place either way,” Sauwa replied, shaking her head. “That was probably an enemy patrol we encountered back there. If they are operating on both sides of the river, then we can’t take the chance they won’t come upon us in a few hours. Besides, trying to navigate this passageway at night would be suicide even if we had the big flashlights and were moving at a reasonable speed. On the other hand, if we try to move out in broad daylight in the open water, we’re sure to be spotted. As I see it, if we move at a good speed, we should be able to hit the passageway fairly rapidly. Since they don’t have much of a guard up here, it will take them some time to figure out that their observation post has been taken out. This should create enough confusion to force them to take time to get organized. By then we should be through the passageway and, hopefully, in more open waters.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Oleg replied skeptically.
Sauwa continued. “What’s more, we don’t know what awaits us once in open water. The Chetniks could be amassed on the other side of this ridge.”
Oleg was becoming desperate. He was hearing one problem after another with no good end in sight. “So, then what? We simply chance it, and hope for the best?”
“No,” Sauwa shook her head. “First, we get off this hill, where we’re not out in the open. Then, we retrieve our gear. You’ll return to the boats as planned and have them start moving downstream.”
They began making their way down the hill for the safety of the trees. As they did, Oleg continued, “You will not be coming with me?”
“No,” she replied. “For this not to be a complete gamble, I’ll stick around and keep watch along the hill crest. When you start to approach, I’ll keep watch along the hill moving ahead of you and provide cover in case you run into any unforeseeable threats. I’ll try to stay ahead of you and keep the way clear. You can pick me up at the other end of the passageway.”
The two made it into the tree line and picked up their gear. Oleg was still nervous, but the idea provided something more than the almost no-win situation he had been hearing minutes ago. “This plan sounds better. What happens if you see trouble at the end of the passageway?”
Checking her pockets and Bergen, Sauwa replied, “I have five grenades and several additional magazines of ammo. If I see trouble, I’ll try and catch them by surprise. I�
��ll let loose with what I’ve got and hope to dislodge the enemy as best I can. That should give you means to escape or at least fight your way out of it.”
Strapping his pack onto his back Oleg nodded, his face awash with sweat. It was obvious he didn’t relish the idea of trekking the long distance back to the boats knowing the Serbian Chetniks were lurking everywhere. Sauwa had strapped on her Bergen and was fixing her hair neatly under a black knit watch cap. She unrolled her camouflage field jacket and cap and started to cover herself. She finished with a quick application of dark camo paint.
Oleg finished his cover, turned and started on his journey. Taking up her rifle and tucking it under her camouflage cover, she watched him make his way through the trees and thickets. Sliding deeper into the bushes, she looked for any signs of someone approaching. She was thankful when she saw no one else in the area and settled back somewhat to get more comfortable.
The long night and even longer morning were gradually creeping up on her, and she fought to keep her eyes open and not fall into a lull. She told herself over and over that once this little endeavor was concluded, she was going to crash out on the boat. She waited patiently with her eyes focused on the river and the surrounding landscape waiting for her people. Aside from the typical animal noises, birds chirping and squirrels darting about in the trees above, she heard nothing else, certainly nothing that would pose an ominous threat.
As she waited, Sauwa began to feel a cold shiver of concern. It was not the concern for any impending threat. Instead, it was the concern for what was to happen to her after they arrived in Mostar. They were only a few kilometers from that city. A few days after reaching Mostar, they would be on the coast. When that happened, she would have another very uncertain future ahead of her. She had virtually no money aside from a few British pounds and some Irish currency. There was only a slight hope that Marko or the people he trusted would keep to their word. She was not looking forward to her future.