1
They knew what to do. They were children of war. When you go to war you never arrive you just draw closer. You live in war. If you stay home sick from school they still have school every child learns. You believe war is distant yet just there. War rages like wild fire.
War never leaves you. Long I had been able to ignore. More people are confused than not. Children of war learn costly lessons and they taught me. We stood in the central hallway. No one spoke. They had spoke using a word that sounded like grenade. They used it to describe something much larger. The Third Corp had done something.
The night before we walked home from a party that could not end til curfew did. We couldn't be loud but we could be together. If you were out after six you were out till six in the morning. A grenata fell on people in the streets one night in Tuzla. We couldn't go out for a time. Things had been much worse and before that things were rather nice.
We heard them in Dornji Vakuf; something was almost expected to arrive. Zenica is one third city, one third factory, and one third park. These shells fell where they did like a dice roll on the valley. That day they seemed to hit the park. It wasn't a great park as anyone from Zenica will tell you, money all went to Sarajevo in 1984. But now they could see stars and fish had returned to the river. Things were getting better.
Week or two later at night same thing, but they hit the factory. The other volunteers gathered in my room. I had been the longest. As each fell I said I'm sure that was the last one. Shelling is like the weather. Nine this time across the balcony we could see the factory. Seemed so far somehow and now close. Guns get hot, even when the soldier gets no rest the guns do, to cool.
We a house of expats were the children. It was how we were helpful. We saw things like children. This should be easy to fix.
2
Things are seen from different points of view. My friend told me a story of how he got a job guarding a British base in Bosnia. Him and some friends who had been brought on the base to gaurd fuel that was being stolen. They gave them a gaurd house with sky satellite television and all the modern convienence of the NATO forces. This was like being in another dimension and suddenly returning to glimpse where you came from. It was as joyous a story. They were in shock they could not do the job. They had a night to remember.
Later that night a British contractor told a story how his fuel was stolen at the same base the same night. Those guards got in trouble. Years with no electricity. That contractor in his own shock. These worthless guards and ruthless thieves he described this terror.
It was not easy to figure out they were talking about the same night. Harder still to write a story of them both. Polarized I don't think they saw each other as they passed. I feel it is a funny story like most in Bosnia .
11
Things get worse and no one is ever prepared for that
7
Some of the best things in the bad times
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