by J E Higgins
A short time later she saw the boats traveling down the river. They were cruising at a rather more rapid pace than anticipated. Standing up abruptly, Sauwa began moving at a slight jog along the tree line up on the grass. She figured even though the boats would slow down to navigate the pass, they would still be traveling at a decent speed. Meanwhile, she was having to traverse the moist ground along the side of a somewhat steep hill and fight her way through the foliage.
It was a pace she estimated she would have to keep up for close to two kilometers. She ran along the tree line keeping her attention on the crest of the hill. As she had predicted, the crests were deserted allowing her to assume that the two men at the observation post had been the entire security. She couldn’t speak for the other side of the river, but she didn’t hear any explosions or gunfire and presumed they were deserted as well.
The hillside was moist and slippery. A few times she lost her footing and nearly went crashing to the ground. The canopy-like camouflage field jacket constantly tangled around her making movement even more difficult. The tired lull she had been feeling earlier had given away to a second wind as she felt her alertness return and was somehow able, despite fatigue, to keep up her pace.
On several occasions, she thought she heard something and dove quickly into the trees. A few seconds of observation was all she allowed herself before pressing on. At what she determined was the halfway point and offered a degree of foliage going all the way to the top, she sprinted several meters the rest of the way up the hill. Reaching the top she dove into the cover of a thick collection of leafy bushes. Her heart was racing and a cold sweat covered her body causing her T-shirt and undergarments to stick to her skin.
She looked down to see the Croatians guiding their boats through the thin strip of water between the high jagged walls of rock below. Though they were drifting at a slow lazy pace, they were only a short distance behind her. Satisfied that all was going well so far, she changed her focus to the crest across the river from her. She studied the landscape for a time until she was satisfied there was no concealed threat. Crawling out from under the bushes, she slid back down the hill a little way until she was once again flush with her protective cover. Needing to pick up the pace she started jogging.
Clouds were starting to gather overhead. By the dark grey coloring of the bigger ones coming in from the West, she figured there were only a few hours until a storm would hit. The weather was getting cooler and a chilly breeze was beginning to pick up adding to her discomfort. Still, she pressed on.
At the end of the line of hills, she slowed to a walk then to a creep. Sauwa slipped once again deep into the tree line as she prepared for her next move. She approached the end of the hill and heard voices. At first, it was little more than a low pitched murmur but, as she got closer, she could make out part of the discussions. It took her a moment to recognize they were speaking Serbian.
She worried that the boats would move past her and get taken by surprise by a possible hornet’s nest of Chetniks. She also worried about attracting attention to herself. Maneuvering cautiously she wound through the woods carefully monitoring the landscape around the bend. Her eyes scanned the area as she analyzed and evaluated the terrain for tactical purposes.
As she rounded the bend, she caught sight of several men in various types of dress lounging along the river. From their relaxed behavior, she believed they were part of a patrol enjoying a break. Not surprisingly, their weapons were clumsily stacked off to the side, guarded by a single man only mildly attending to his duties. Thankfully, it appeared she had preceded Oleg and his men to the location. This oblivious group of Serbs hadn’t yet noticed the boats coming toward them down the river.
Taking advantage of the situation, she knelt behind a thick berm concealed by wild grass and bushes. She watched a little longer. Setting her rifle against her knee, she reached into her coat pocket producing the green pineapple-like grenade she had been carrying. Pressing down on the spoon with a tight grip, she prepared to pull the pin when she caught sight of another group of men emerging from the woods across the way.
Stopping her action, she watched as this new group sallied out of the tree line. They were attired in combat fatigues, cradling rifles and carrying a few rocket-propelled grenade launchers. It was clear these men were not regular soldiers but Chetnik militia. Like the men along the river, this new group also seemed to lack any tactical discipline as they moved in a tight group as opposed to a well dispersed tactical formation. While a few held their weapons at the tactical ready, most kept them in a position that was simply comfortable. Though they weren’t talking to each other as in a social gathering, they certainly weren’t actively observing their surroundings either. All of these factors worked to Sauwa’s advantage.
The problem was now that she was faced with enemies on both sides of her, she wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to handle the challenge. To make the problem worse, the Croatians were due any time and were about to find themselves facing off against at least fifty armed men.
Thinking fast, she decided her primary threat was the group just coming back from patrol. Concentrating her attention on them, she pulled the grenade pin the rest of the way free and waited for them to get closer. Gripping the spoon tightly, she could feel the sweat dripping down her back. She hated working with Soviet-made explosives. They were cheaply produced, of extremely poor quality, and incredibly unpredictable. She had witnessed on more than a few occasions someone activating a grenade only to have it blow up instantly instead of the expected four-second delay. The thought of those poor souls worried her as she thought about what might happen the instant she released the spoon.
Preparing herself, she clutched her rifle with her free hand ready to move quickly to start firing on everyone after the grenade blast. The patrol came closer until there were less than ten meters between her and them. Concentrating on the part of the patrol where the most men were closest together, she took a breath. Flinging part of her camouflage cover over her shoulder so as not to be a hindrance she drew back her arm. As if a pitcher in a game of American baseball, she hurdled the destructive object and dropped to the ground seeking protection behind the dirt berm.
She barely had time to be thankful that it didn’t blow up in her hand when a powerful blast exploded and delivered a force that she could feel vibrating on the ground at her feet. Her ears were still ringing from the terrible rippling echo when she reached to pick up her rifle in both hands. Rising to a kneeling position behind the grassy berm, she lifted her Kolesnikov-47 until the wooden rifle butt was tucked tightly into the pocket of her shoulder, and she was holding it at eye level.
In front of her, men wildly ran about confused and scared. It was another sign that they were a far cry from a professional unit. Honing in on the one man who seemed to be in a position of leadership and trying to bring about some sort of order, she sighted down her rifle. Soviet military AK-47s were hardly precision weapons. Having had some time to gain familiarity with the weapon, she was able to compensate by estimating the windage and elevation. Sighting in on the suspected commander, a burly fellow, with a long shaggy beard who was gradually getting order restored, she fired a quick burst. The rounds tore into the man’s chest cavity knocking him off balance. He stopped shouting and began walking about in a confused manner as if he had just been punched by some unseen adversary. This lasted a few seconds until he eventually dropped to the ground dead.
With the commander dead, chaos again took over as the remaining men took to wildly running around trying to escape from the mystery sniper. So inexperienced were the Chetniks, they never once took notice of her. At that time, she saw the boats with Oleg and his men arrive on the river. A few of the Chetniks caught sight of them and began firing sporadically in their direction. This was returned by a more coordinated blast of gunfire from Oleg and his men. They saturated the Serbs, who quickly dove for cover. A few tried to take to the tree line where they were picked off by Sauwa as she emerg
ed from the berm and began moving sideways in the direction of the river but still making sure to stay clear of the barrage of fire being laid down by the Croatians.
Walking alongside the hill, she found herself once again in the open. Clearing the bend she took a chance and started for the boats. Trying to run, she found her camouflage clothing too restricting as it tangled about her. Tearing at the straps that tied it, she threw the cumbersome garment to the ground along with the cap. She bolted in a dead sprint heading for the boats.
Recognizing her instantly, the Croatians directed their fire away from her. Though it was only a few meters to the river, she felt like it was several kilometers the way her heart was pounding and her breath getting shallower. The larger boat had pulled out ahead of the smaller craft with the men on it laying down continuous fire on their hated enemies while the smaller boat, manned by Oleg and Smolesk, moved closer to the shoreline. Smolesk held fast at the motor while Oleg continued to fire.
Making it to the shoreline, Sauwa leaped onto the waiting craft. The wooden frame of the boat shuddered as she landed hard. She could feel the humming vibrations moving through the boat as Smolesk revved the motor to full speed. She felt a weight on top of her and realized it was Oleg covering her as they made their escape.
“Thank you for the warning,” he whispered into her ear.
She said nothing as she felt her body start to relax and her eyelids grow heavy. Her last bit of energy was finally used. She dropped into a deep sleep.
20
Sauwa’s first sensation as she started to recover was of rough cloth. The itchy annoyance turned out to be a blanket Smolesk had thrown on her the night before. Although scratchy, it gave her warmth and shielded her from the otherwise chilly air. The second feeling was a body pressed up against her, breath tickling her neck, and a hand resting firmly on her hip. The gnarled beard entangled in her hair told her Oleg had decided to join her.
The vibrations of the boat rumbled through the wooden boards inspiring the urge to pee. Using a little force, she managed to free herself from Oleg’s grip. Little by little she peeled back the coarse blanket that surrounded her.
A chill accosted her as she threw off the last bit of covering. Her eyes gradually adjusted, and she looked up at the hazy, darkening sky above. Rising onto her tiptoes she looked further out to see the pinkish aura of the sunset gleaming over the skyline as the sun bidding its last farewell to the day.
“What is it?” The mood was altered by the groggy voice of Oleg gradually waking.
“How long have we been out?” Sauwa asked in an equally listless tone.
“I’m not sure of anything right now,” Oleg slid his hand over the now unoccupied wooden boards in front of him. “Still warm,” he signed.
Smolesk spoke, a slight chuckle accompanying his jovial tone.
Oleg interpreted without waiting for an invitation from Sauwa. “He said it was about time we decided to join the world of the living. He says we’ve been out all day.”
“I have to pee,” Sauwa announced. She was beyond caring about modesty having had to rough it for so long with men all around her. She went about her business lowering her garment and undergarment, her bare arse visible. Balancing carefully, she edged her bum over the side.
As she went about her business, Sauwa carried on her conversation. “What’s our status?”
With a shrug, Oleg turned to look back at the following boat. “We’ve lost three men thus far. The first ones you already know about. Our last little engagement gained us one more casualty, but nothing dire or detrimental.”
“What’s happened since our little gunfight anyway?” She adjusted to stabilize herself on both arms. “Did they follow us? Have we seen any more signs of Chetniks or the Serbian army prowling about?”
After a quick discussion with Smolesk, Oleg replied. “No, they followed with some gunfire but made no attempt to pursue us. Since then it has been quiet.”
“We must finally be in Croatian held territory,” Sauwa said. “After the damage we caused, they would be on us hard, if they had command of this area.”
Oleg observed the darkened shoreline. “I imagine you are right. We’re too tempting a target for trigger-happy Chetniks who had just been taken by surprise and blasted.”
“How are we for fuel?” Sauwa finished her activity and was back in the boat doing up her trousers.
Smolesk had broken out some dried meat and dry bread. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a decent evening meal for someone who had burned so many calories and had not eaten all day. It tasted like a king’s feast for the starving mercenary.
Oleg spoke to Smolesk in Croatian. Smolesk waved his head from side to side as he replied. When Smolesk finished talking, Oleg turned back to Sauwa. “We’ve gone through half of our reserve fuel already. He says the others are in a similar position.”
Rubbing her forehead, Sauwa raised her head toward the sky, as if expecting the answer to the dilemma to be somewhere amongst the stars. “We have to get more fuel soon. The question is where?” She reached for a map, unfolded it and in the remaining daylight and with the assistance of one of the flashlights followed the line depicting the Neretva River.
Smolesk reached out over the map pointing to a line. He said something guiding his finger a short way down to the dot representing the location of the city of Mostar.
“He says we are less than six kilometers from the city,” Oleg interpreted.
“Do you think we can find fuel there?” Sauwa asked.
“I think the bigger concern is will we be able to get in?” Oleg tone was suspicious.
“We shouldn’t have too much trouble. It’s been under Croatian-Bosniak control for over a year.” Sauwa looked up from the map. “My concern is finding assistance from our supposed friends when we get to town.”
A strange expression flashed across Oleg’s face. “Croatians and Bosnians share the city. We should tread lightly, tensions may still be strong.”
Sauwa shook her head. “Since the signing of the Washington agreement in March, the standing militaries of both groups have reconciled quite a bit. I wouldn’t say everyone’s on friendly terms, but they’re cooperating better. What we should be most concerned with is the possibility we’ll be relieved of our goods. We’re a militia dealing with a standing army. That has a tendency to cause issues when they decide their needs outweigh ours.”
Oleg looked back at the second boat. “You think they’ll pilfer our goods for themselves?”
“I don’t see what’s stopping them once we get near Mostar.”
Oleg rapped his knuckles on his knee. He didn’t know what to do.
Sauwa continued, “We should go into Mostar ourselves. Have the other boat turn out all lights and cruise past silently. We collect what we can and meet them farther downriver after we’ve all passed through. We have nothing in this boat that would be of interest, so we should be able to make a few pleas, get some assistance and hopefully be on our way.”
“Do you think it will work?” Oleg was still rapping his knuckles.
“It’s the only plan we have,” Sauwa replied. “If we show up with our boat full of equipment at their docks, we lose any ability to control the situation once they have us. This way we have a chance, a slight one but at least we have something.”
Oleg ran his lower lip under his teeth several times as he contemplated the situation. He hated to think he and his men could be in danger from other Croatians. However, he was also aware of how standing military forces viewed guerrilla units. If resources were in short supply, HVO soldiers would not hesitate to confiscate anything they wanted. He looked back at Sauwa and studied her one more time. Then reaching for his walkie-talkie, he started relaying orders back to the second boat.
As this was going on, Sauwa’s attention was diverted by a large hand on her shoulder. She looked over to see Smolesk staring back at her. His face was kind and warm. Taking his hand off her he reached down and grabbed some clothes that were on the fl
oor near his feet and handed them to her. They were the clothes she had worn last evening and had left them out to dry.
Relieved at having something other than military attire to wear, she took the clothes from his hand nodded in appreciation and changed. Smolesk turned away to focus his attention on the darkened shoreline and the river ahead. In like fashion, Oleg tried to keep his attention on the boat behind them as he spoke over the walkie-talkie his eyes occasionally peeking in her direction.
Back in less suspicious civilian attire she leaned over the side and washed the remaining camo-paint from her face. Thankfully, she had only used a bare minimum, so it was not the usual tedious endeavor. Having had enough of the cold river water, she turned back and positioned herself in the boat. Even though the wood deck had left her aching, the deep sleep had invigorated her. Her energy was back. As she was taking in the fresh air and enjoyed the last morsels of her dinner, she felt a strange peace come over her. It wouldn’t last long, but it felt good nonetheless.
21
To everyone’s relief, the lights of the city were scant and intermittent, either from lack of energy access ─ due to the destruction from the conflict ─ or as a security precaution. The additional darkness worked in their favor. The night offered far better concealment than anticipated.
As they neared, they heard the voices of men talking to one another from the trees along the shore on the right. Sentries patrolling the city’s outer perimeter crisscrossed the area with their flashlights.
The guerrillas remained silent on their boats. Sauwa, Oleg, and Smolesk slowed but kept their motor running to draw attention away from their comrades. The boat following them cut their motor and fell back. Their flashlights went dead. Then as planned, the second boat used the city lights to guide them past the lead boat heading farther along the river.