After the grenade had blown away the house, I saw
her behind the rubble in a cloud of dust and smoke. She
wore a not too long light brown suede coat with a
large, darker furry collar. Underneath one could see a
rather short and tight skirt of olive colored suede,
and a generous, lighter green pullover. On her feet she
had brown leather boots with moderately high heels.
Above the upper rim of the boots showed the knees
covered by dark stockings. Within the furry frame of
the collar shone thick, copper-golden hair.
She pulled her head backwards and looked, as if in
anger, in the direction of the arrival of the grenade.
I bent forward and ran some twenty meters through a
stretch of open space toward her, and grabbed her hand.
"What's the matter?"
"Let's go!"
I pulled her in the direction of a gully which cut
into the steep slope of the hill. I expected to hear
the whistle of that second grenade, but it did not
come. Quickly we climbed into the shy greenery of the
April forest. At the top of the climb we stopped, out
of breath. I looked at her. From her flushed face,
glowed two big green eyes. They almost smiled. She was
young and beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the
world!
"What are you doing in Tvrtkovica!?"
"I came to visit my aunt. I arrived yesterday. They
told me that auntie had left..."
"Where are you from?"
"From Cincinnati."
"Cincinnati... Ohio?"
"Cincinnati, Ohio!"
"And the guys in the State Department did not tell
you not to come?"
"They told me not to go to Sarajevo. They did not
mention Tvrtkovica! I came yesterday by bus, by the way
of Samac..."
The sound of shooting echoed from the valley,
climbing slowly toward the heights.
"What's your name?"
"Julie... Julija."
"I am Petar -- Peter -- officer of Croatian Army. I
will take you back to Croatia."
She listened to the shooting and then, for the
first time, a shade of worry crept over her face.
"What's going on?"
"The war. Serbs, chetniks, they are cleansing
Croats and Muslims."
She looked at me in disbelief.
"War? What's going to happen...?"
"If they push our guys out, they will burn down the
village, slaughter the men, rape the women, and take a
few, maybe, to some concentration camp..."
"But I have an American passport. They can't..."
"Sweetie -- I said -- if the chetniks catch you,
they will rape you till kingdom come."
She squeezed my hand harder.
"Is this a sort of a compliment?"
"This is not the time for compliments. We must go.
The Croatian border is about thirty-five kilometers to
the north. Twenty miles by your reckoning. Could you
make it in those boots?"
"They are fairly sturdy, and the heel is not too
high. I guess I can."
"It will take us three days. We must stay away from
valleys and villages."
I crawled up to the brink of the precipice and
looked into the valley. To the left, a section of
Tvrtkovica was going up in smoke. Our guys were still
shooting from the bottom of the hill, down the gentle
slope toward the mosque. The Serbs will probably burn
what they can, kill, rape, plunder, and then disappear
into the woods. This side of the low ridge, a little
river sparkled peacefully in the afternoon sun. We
should descend toward it, and then proceed northwards
along the left slope. To the right, above the
northeastern heights hung a few columns of black smoke.
Toward the north, down the valley, the air was clear.
I slipped back into the gully, toward her. For the
first time it occurred to me that I may be committing
high treason by deserting my colleagues in need. But I
was not a member of any local Bosnian unit. I was sent
by Croatian Army Headquarters to explore the situation
to the south of amac, and report back as soon as
possible. I would have to start back tomorrow,
anyway... I am rescuing a U.S. citizen... America
recognized Croatia a few days ago. Thus my duty is:
take her to safety!
I took her hand and said:
"Let's go!"
I wanted, I badly wanted to stay near her.
In silence we cut downwards following an overgrown
path. I reckoned: it is about five P.M. This leaves us
two more hours of so-so visibility. Some four
kilometers to the north there were some ruins on top of
a wooded hill. We could spend the night there. I
scanned the slope looking for the best and least
arduous route, protected by bushes and skimpy trees
from the eyes in the valley. We stopped for a moment
and I pointed out the hilltop to the north.
"We should reach it by nightfall. It is about two,
two and a half miles."
"Don't worry. We will make it. When did you learn
to count in miles?"
"Everything is getting Americanized."
"And I hoped to escape from America for a few
weeks!"
"Don't you like it in Cincinnati?"
"Ah, Cincinnati..."
I tried to imagine a spacious home in Cincinnati
where she lives with her parents, Croatian immigrants.
She surely has a boy-friend there... I must return her
to Cincinnati, Ohio, unharmed...
"Cincinnati is not bad. It is at the very southern
end of Ohio. Across the river there is Kentucky. Our
airport is in Kentucky, The Ohio river wiggles through
the city, which lies on the slopes and hills to the
north. We also live on the slope. My parents, they are
both physicians, work together. Their office is not far
from our home, on the plateau at the top of the hill.
From our terrace you can see the entire city. There are
many churches with towers, some with pairs of towers,
built from brick. People are mostly German immigrants,
and other Central Europeans, conservative folks, not
too much crime -- for a big city, that is. Even under
Roosevelt, Cincinnati belonged to the Republicans..."
"I will return you safely to Cincinnati."
"Don't worry. I am in no hurry. I came here of my
own free will, and I will not be chased out by a
handful of Serb grenades. At least, I am not going to
run."
The slope was turning northwards and it was the
time to start climbing.
"How goes it?"
"Don't worry. Give me your hand, and do not worry."
Her hand was soft and warm. On the back of my head
I felt the light touch of her shining, green eyes. I
must return her to Cincinnati in one piece. Return her
in one piece? Easier said than done!
In the dusk we carefully advanced through dense,
mixed forest. Before reaching the peak, I gave her a
sign to stop, while I crept onwards to the first ruined
wall and took a peek through the curtain of rosehip and
laurel. Crouched, I waited a few minutes. No sound, no
movement. I returned to her, took her hand and so we
entered the clearing among the scattered walls and
other rubble.
This must have been a deserted hamlet, or maybe a
ruin of an old castle. Along the southern edge I found,
in the darkness, a place along the wall where some
animal, most likely a fox, dug up a den, so the soil
was light and soft. I removed some with my palms, some
with my knife. From the forest I brought a few armfuls
of dry leaves and dropped them into the hollow. We will
use the rest to cover ourselves.
I sat at the edge of that "bed", and Julie sat next
to me. From the knapsack I took a can of tuna and two
biscuits. I opened the can and spread the fish on the
biscuits. I offered her the water flask. So we ate,
pressed tightly together.
"It will be cold in the night, especially toward
morning ," I said.
"We will cuddle up, won't we?"
She pressed even closer and put her head on my
shoulder. I tried to think fast, checking quickly my
personal code of ethics. I rescued her from the
chetniks. I must return her in one piece. Therefore, I
cannot, I must not...
Her hair tickled my cheek, the smell of her hair,
of her skin -- the sweet smell of youth -- crept into
my nostrils.
"Tell me what you do when you do not fight wars."
I could not believe my own words:
"I am a priest!"
"A priest!!!"
Her body shrank, she pulled back, withdrew her
hand. She stayed thus, petrified, for a moment or two.
Then she again relaxed, and her hand returned to mine.
"A priest? So even the priests fight in this war?"
"Everybody fights, as they know best."
"That's very noble. Don't worry. We will cuddle and
warm each other anyway, right, Reverend? Now I at least
know you have no girl back home in Zagreb, or wherever,
so I need not be jealous."
There was a touch of sorrow in her voice, and I was
sorry too. But I proudly concluded: I made a right
decision!
"If you need to get up during the night, do not
hesitate. I will cover you when you come back."
I placed her into the hollow next to the wall,
poured leaves on top and covered her with her coat. I
secured all this with a few thick fir branches. Then I
crawled in, next to her, and with my free left hand
pulled the leaves and branches on top of myself. She
pressed against me, warm as a stove. I lightly kissed
her hair.
She said:
"Say, didn't you need to stay with the guys, and
fight?"
"I am on an intelligence assignment. I have to
return as soon as possible and file my report."
"And I thought you defected because of me!"
"I am also returning because of you. We must
protect foreign nationals."
"Thank you. How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight."
"I am twenty-four."
And she pressed even closer.
Frost crystals sparkled on the branches and on the
blades of grass, but our lair was surprisingly warm. We
had slept well. Had the chetniks come by, they would
have had no trouble cutting our throats.
"It would be nice to light a fire and make some
tea," I said. "But we shouldn't."
"Don't worry. We will make it," she said chewing a
piece of biscuit with a triangular "Zdenka" cheese
chunk. "I am sure you have already prayed for a safe
trip."
"Of course."
"Then you need not worry. We will pull through."
Like yesterday I took her hand and led her back
into the thicket. It was just past seven o'clock.
The morning was sunny and calm. Then, around ten,
they started shooting far behind our backs. Tvrtkovica
still held. As in answer a machine gun snapped from the
hillocks across the river. When we reached the end of
the forest we saw again those columns of smoke. They
were thinner and farther apart.
We returned into the forest, among lean birch
trees, and trekked over very difficult terrain
following the valley toward the north. On the other
side the flat lands have pushed the slopes away making
room for a few little villages. Through binoculars I
tried to establish if there were any people, or
animals, but I could discern no sign of life. The white
homes -- empty and deserted -- slept quietly in
lukewarm spring sun.
The roots tripped us on the steep incline, we slid
on the stone lumps hidden by thick, dark green moss, we
were scratched by yet leafless branches of the mountain
blackberry. The squeeze of her hand kept telling me
that it was not easy, but she gritted her teeth and
bore it. Then, toward noon, the slope leveled, the
rocks disappeared, and the birch gave way to larger and
bushier trees. We sat down at the bank of a creek, she
took off her boots and looked at them sadly.
"I hope they hold."
While resting I made an inventory. We still had two
cans of tuna, nine biscuit pieces, two bags of powdered
soup, eighteen sugar cubes, an almost complete ring of
dried figs, and a bar of semisweet chocolate.
"In this country, the lunch is the principal meal,"
I said, and opened a can. I divided it the same way as
yesterday, and I gave her three figs and two sections
of the chocolate.
"How about yourself?"
"I do not eat sweets."
"You need strength more than I do."
Silently, I squeezed her hand.
A hundred meters downstream we came across a good
forest lane, twisting northwards. I checked the surface
-- no trace of shoes or vehicles. I reckoned that the
chetniks were behind us and on the other side of the
river, so I decided to take a risk and use the path as
long as its direction was right. Now we moved much
faster, but after about one hour or so the path all of
a sudden leapt out of the forest and into a large,
gently curving meadow. In the middle of it stood a
wooden hut. A few fenced-in plots were scattered around
it.
No one could tell, from the style of the structure,
whether its putative tenants were Croats, Serbs, or
Muslims. I took off my automatic rifle and passed it
over to her.
"Julie, do you know how to use this?"
"Well, I guess..."
I changed my mind, unclasped the revolver belt, and
gave it her.
"And how about this? Take this, and cover me."
"You mean, if anybody shows up, shoot between the
eyes?"
"Something like that."
"Do you really have to?"
"I want to see if there is anybody."
I figured there was nobody, but that there might be
some food left.
Carefully and quickly, feeling (or was it a happy
illusion?) her eyes nailed to my back, I negotiated the
open space. I reached the door, slightly ajar, in about
twenty seconds. I pushed it with the tip of my rifle,
and peeked into the darkness.
The hut was empty, deserted in a hurry. A few pots
and pans were scattered around an open fireplace. In
summer, somebody lived here tending sheep and goats,
and growing a few vegetables. Now he was gone,
precipitously, forever. I searched the adjoining rooms,
and in one I found two heads of cabbage and two
carrots. Proudly I pressed the catch to my chest and
hurried back to Julia, signaling her to retreat behind
the trees. We sat down, cleaned the carrots and
cabbage, and then I cut the cabbage into small bits and
stuffed them into the knapsack.
"Cabbage contains vitamins. Whenever you feel like,
while we are on the move, grab some and eat. It
protects from colds and flus."
"For a priest you are full of boy-scout tricks."
"The priests must be close to the earth and the
people."
With regrets I bade goodby to our comfortable lane
which we had followed for at least five kilometers. I
figured we were about thirteen kilometers away from
Tvrtkovica, one third of the way to safety, two more
nights under the stars. I had no idea where we would
spend the night, but as long as we were safely away
from any humans, I did not care. In the afternoon all
the shooting died down. Only, here and there, something
would roar, heavily, in the northeast. By now we were
used to all that, and paid little attention. Around
four o'clock, after a slow, but not too hard, march
through a thin forest we again reached a creek and
there I called for a rest-stop.
"Thanks," she said, as she dropped down on the bed
of moss. She put her head into my lap and fell asleep
like a child.
Our position within an open clearing was not good,
but I did not have the heart to wake her. It was
getting a bit chilly so I pulled in the edges of her
coat and wrapped them around her, and while doing this
I felt the rhythmic motion of her breasts. I let my
hand stop for a second and enjoy her warmth, than I
passed it under the furry collar and pulled her towards
me. With the other hand I stroked her hair.
Her face was all scratched by blackberry and
thistle, there were bits of leaves and branches in her
hair. The coat was slit at several spots, the stockings
had a big hole on the right knee. The boots showed a
few deep cuts, and one of the heels had started to come
loose. Her breasts kept on moving peacefully -- up,
down, up, down -- and a happy little smile danced
around her lips. Did she dream she was home, in
Cincinnati, with her people, with her...?
For a second I was angry, which I duly recognized
as an inexcusable attack of jealousy. I had a terrible
desire to bend over and kiss her, but with some effort
I curbed the temptation. Then, while my eyes were nailed
to her beautiful face, I heard the steps.
I froze. We were caught asleep. I started, grabbed
for the rifle, knowing full well it was too late; I
lifted my eyes and found myself face to face with a doe
who was asking me, with her big brown eyes, if I she
could have some water.
Julie started too, and woke up.
"Am I dreaming?"
"No, this is not Cincinnati."
"I know it is not Cincinnati, silly!"
The doe bent down and drank. Then she elegantly
turned and trotted away into the bushes.
"We were lucky. It could have been a bearded
chetnik!"
"You should't have let me sleep. I won't be able to
sleep tonight, and I must not bother your holiness..."
She embraced me and kissed my cheek.
"Let's go, saint. While there is still light, at
least a mile or two -- toward freedom!"
In an hour we reached a thick evergreen grove, and
there, in its heart, I dug up a hole among the roots
and tree trunks. I surrounded it with a fence of
evergreen branches and put a thick layer at its bottom.
In the dark we inhaled the smell of the evergreens, and
from somewhere, not too far away, every now and then
came the hoot of an owl. The shooting had ceased
altogether. There were only Julia and myself, cuddled
under a thick blanket of evergreen leaves.
In the morning there was a lot of shooting to the
southeast, toward the end of the valley. The slope
suddenly flattened out and landed us on the alluvial
plain among scattered, thin trees. The descent must
have been so slow that it was in fact unnoticeable and
so we found ourselves, without any warning, some ten
meters away from the river, which here pressed against
the very northwest end of the valey. The river, now it
was a true river, some ten meters across, shone among
the stretches of golden sand. Crystal clear, it mumbled
with satisfaction as it progressed northwards. Julia
observed the water with lusty greed.
"What if I went and washed myself?"
"It may be dangerous."
I carefully scanned the other side. Some willows, a
few other solitary tres. No place for an ambush. Then a
high enbankment, a long plain, some woods and houses in
great distance. Above them two roundheaded, wooded
hills. Nice spots for artillery. They worried me, yet I
said:
"If you really have to, go. But be quick and
careful."
She took off the coat, the boots and what has
remained of stockings, pulled up her skirt and ran
forward, without any care or caution, barefoot toward
the golden spit. I watched her supple, full, healthy
body, her shapely legs, while she ran into the sun and
the silvery twinkle of the stream.
Plop!
With a thud a grenade landed in the mud a dozen
meters downstream from Julia.
"Julija!"
Julie had turned around and with her arms in the
air ran toward me. She threw herself around my neck.
This time her face did not bear the print of anger, but
of fear. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"They tried to kill me!"
I pulled her along, as fast as I could, farther
away from the water, into the thicket. Now, there will
be a second grenade, or maybe machine gun fire.
But the second grenade again failed to materialize,
and no machine gun barked at us from the other bank.
After twenty meters we reached the shelter behind the
first sizeable tree.
"They tried to kill me, they tried to kill me," she
sobbed.
I pressed her to my chest, like a little girl, warm
and in tears.
"But they failed, thank God," I said and I kissed
her hair. "And now squat behind this tree while I go
back and collect your stuff."
"You aren't going there!!!"
"We cannot do without the coat and boots."
"No! Or I go get them myself!"
I pushed her, this time somewhat rudely, so she sat
down among the tree roots.
"Sit and wait," I said with authority.
And, without any incident, I went, picked up the
boots and the coat, and walked back to her.
She stood up and without any words she kissed me.
We stayed embraced for a long time.
"You are wonderful, really wonderful," she said.
"And now let's go!"
Although we were tired we kept going and going
farther away from that unlucky spot. Finally, around
two in the afternoon, we sat down in the meadow at the
edge of a forest to eat the last can of tuna. The hills
bent down and stretched out. Their rounded peaks were
covered by grass while the lower parts were skirted by
thin deciduous forest. The ridges descended into a vast
river plain.
A belt of trees protected us from eyes from below.
"Say, who shot at me?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Is that important?"
"I think so."
I thought for a moment.
"Last few days everything got mixed up. If I knew
who was where, we would go straight down the main road,
we would not hide in the bushes. It could have been
anybody -- Serbs, Muslims, Croats.
"It means I could have been killed by a Croat
grenade?"
I put my hand on her shoulder. She shook lightly.
"This is really horrible. How long is it going to
take?"
"Very long. It has not yet started!"
"Then somebody will kill you, too."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"That's not enough. They must not kill you.
Promise, you will not let them."
"I will do whatever I can, I promise."
She smiled.
"You never asked me what I do."
"What do you do?"
"I am a fashion designer. Not the way you think of
it, no Dior, Gucci... No, Sir, we work, from morning
till evening! I work for 'Tanner,' a big ladies fashion
company, I design everything, from hair ribbons to
stockings. Do you know it takes sometimes two years to
properly redesign a pair of panties?
She laughed.
"Of course you don't. You are a priest. But it is
true."
"I could guess by the way you dress."
"I dress nicely, don't I? I hope you will see me in
Zagreb, when I really dress up. Are you coming to
Zagreb?"
"Perhaps."
"Come, promise!"
It was getting muggy. Clouds have been moving in
from the south. Their heavy bellies rubbed against the
mountain tops. By evening, it may rain. Luckily, the
last night!
She stood up, and took off the coat.
"Too hot. Is it going to rain?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps, perhaps, always perhaps or maybe."
"We won't melt."
"We won't."
I took the coat, folded it, and secured it under
the flap of my knapskack.
"You did so much for me," she said thoughtfully.
"And there is nothing I can do for you, just nothing."
The rain came with the dusk. A drop, a sprinkle,
then long and boring drizzle.
In the course of the afternoon Julia started to
cough. I fed her cabbage, and she patiently and
obediently chewed. The mist and humidity, I feared,
would not help.
As the hills were about to collapse I decided to
look for the last night's shelter in the gorge of some
little creek before we fully entered the plain. Early
in the evening we found the mouth of a narrow and tall
gorge, and climbed it all the way up to the spring. The
cavity was indeed narrow and the branches above our
heads obscured the sky. There must have been at least
fifteen meters to the top. I found a relatively dry
spot under broad branches and spread my windbreaker
over them, like a tent. I made a thick bed of leaves,
laid her down and covered her with her coat. Then I
piled up some more leaves and branches and huge green
leaves of a weed which always grows along small
waterways.
"How are you doing?"
A hand emerged from the pile of leaves searching
for mine.
"I have a slight headache, and my nose is stuffed.
Don't worry, I will make it."
We were just five-six kilometers from Ora je, the
final but the most difficult stretch. Tomorrow morning
we would enter among the trenches, minefields, and
sniper nests. I knew the state of affairs as of five
days ago. In five days many things can change. I did
not relish the thought of being blown up by one of our
own mines.
I forced her to eat the rest of the chocolate and
the last three figs. For tomorrow we have saved two
pieces of biscuit, one carrot and a handful of cut-up
cabbage.
It rained and rained, but here, in our hole we did
not quite notice. I sought her face, touched her
forehead; it was warm, but not too hot, I pushed my
head through the layers of leaves, and kissed her.
"Sleep, baby, if you can. Tomorrow will see the end
of our journey."
I slept surprisingly well, almost on top of her,
and this probably saved me from a cold. But I felt a
slight sore in my throat and stiffness in my bones. I
checked the time -- a quarter to nine! I peeped into
the pile of leaves and branches -- and heard her even
breathing. In spite of the wetness and cold I decided
to wash a little in the creek. I stripped down to the
waist, threw the clothes next to our bed, and walked
down to the water. It was hellishly cold and I just
sprinkled some over my chest and the armpits. When I
turned I saw Julia sitting at the edge of the pile,
stretching and smiling.
"I feel better."
And when I came back and took her hand, she asked:
"I watched you while you bathed. Where is your
collar, where is your cross? I bet you have no rosary!"
"I can't go on missions like that dressed as a
priest. Imagine the glee if the chetniks could capture
and roast a Catholic priest! Now eat that last biscuit,
and fill up on vitamins from the cabbage."
The drizzle went on.
A long, foggy plain greeted us at the end of the
gorge. Like the sea waves after a storm, the fields
gently curved upwards, downwards. Here and there, stood
little clumps of brushlike trees. With my binoculars
I searched in the fog for the church tower at Ora je
and finally I found it way to the northwest.
I tried to figure out our positions, or anybody's -
- but there was no sign of human presence. Still, I
knew that the fields were crisscrossed by trenches and
mines, and that the clumps of trees hid machine guns
and howitzers.
Ours? Theirs?
I told Julia who still carried my revolver:
"If we see backs, it's them. Shoot. If we see
faces, it's us."
There was shooting behind our backs, among the
hills to the south; and grumbling of artillery from the
northeast, from Br ko. We advanced slowly, our feet
mired by the bog, which already at the end of the
canyon ate up one of Julia's boot soles. I dug it up,
cut off the heel and put it into my pocket. Then I
somewhat cleaned the sole and stuck it back into the
boot to protect her at least a little from mud and
moisture. I identified safe spots and led her carefully
but quickly from one to another. So we zigzagged across
the plain, toward the northeast and the road which was
supposedly under our control. We wiggled and roamed in
fog and rain, but at the end, we had to approach...
Around noon we were some four hundred meters to the
southwest of the road, when I noticed a car driving in
the northerly direction. I followed it with my
binoculars; it was an uncovered jeep, and held two
soldiers in camouflage uniform. The car stopped after
some one hundred meters. Under a tree I spotted a
barricade and hedgehogs.
I passed the binoculars to Julia:
"These are probably ours since they are facing
south. Now careful, and our tribulations will soon be
over."
"I am almost sorry."
"Aren't you looking forward to Cincinnati?"
"To hell with Cincinnati!"
"You are a hard woman to please!"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"What can't be cured, must be endured. Let's wrap
it up!"
I moved straight toward the road hoping that the
mines were closer to the barricade.
"Halt!"
Instinctively, we threw ourselves behind the soggy
lump of grass.
"Who's there?"
In that bog we stood no chance. Two-three spats
from the machine gun and we are gone! Whoever was in
that trench, some twenty meters ahead, won't wait
forever.
"Who's there?"
Like a lightning Julie sprang up to her feet, and
before I could pull her back down into the mud,
screamed:
"Americans!"
I froze. She stood in the middle of the field,
upright, aimed at by hundreds of barrels, her copper-
golden head an ideal target. I heard from the other
side.
"Martin, what the devil's going on?"
"Not the devil, but a girl. And a good looking
one."
"For Chrissake who are you?"
Since there are no Serbian Martins, I rose and
shouted:
"Senior Lieutenant Saric, Croatian Army. I am
bringing along a foreign national, whom I rescued from
the chetniks."
"Get going!"
We walked shoulder to shoulder. Her face radiated
that same determination I noticed when I met her, back
there, after our first grenade.
"Approach slowly. No funny motions. We have you on
target."
But he did not ask me to discard my rifle, or to
put my hands behind my head.
"Now jump in, right in front."
There were five of them there.
"Papers!"
I put down the rifle and gave him my military ID
and the orders.
"A "special"?"
I nodded my head.
"Enseign Sepic. Welcome, Sen-Leut... and you...
Miss..."
"My name is Julija. From Cincinnati, Ohio."
"I told you Stipe it was a girl, a good looking
one, and you did not believe me."
Half an hour later we rode in a jeep, through the
ongoing drizzle, to the headquarters in Ora je. There
Major Jordanic said:
"Welcome back, Sen-Leut. If you want to call your
guys over there, go ahead. And please, tell me, where
did you pick her up?"
"In Tvrtkovica."
"In Tvrtkovica? What's next!?"
I sat at his desk and called the Croatian
headquarters on the other side of the Sava. While I
talked, Jordanic set up the rest.
"Ora je is full of refugees, but at my Ilija's," he
pointed to the just arrived officer, "there is an attic
room, small, but clean and cozy. Go there and rest.
There is plenty of palenta at Ilija's, and when you are
well rested, come over and we will dine here. I can
take you over to Croatia tonight. And if you'd like to
stay, stay as long as you wish."
At Ilija's they served palenta with bacon and sour
milk, and thin fizzy domestic white wine. The room was
small, but airy and friendly. There was a big mattress
in the middle of the floor, and a pile of blankets, a
pail of water and a big lavabo.
"Have a good rest. You must be dog tired."
"Water, water," Julia cheered.
I leaned into the mattress.
Julia poured the water into the lavabo, took off
the large pullover, and unbuttoned the bra. Like
crystal flowers glistened her stiff young breasts. She
turned to me and said:
"You don't mind. After all, you are a spiritual
being, you cannot be led into temptation. I can barely
wait to wash. Yet, what a pity..."
From below came the noise of voices and heavy feet,
banging of dishes. We were no more in the gullies and
bushes. If she does not like it, she can scream, cry
for help, hit the floor with her heels. I rose from the
mattress, walked over to her and took her firmly into
my arms.
"Julija, I did not tell you the whole truth. I
belong to a weird early Croatian Catholic sect which
allows its priests to marry."
She was startled, and looked at me obliquely, as if
in doubt.
Then she let out a merry little shriek, and stuck
her face in between my chin and my shoulder.
We must have stunk like curs in a kennel, but we
did not care.
That was the beginning of my travel with Julie.
Return to home page of V Goss