By Vesna TOROVIC
Only 2,750 meters as the bird flies from the Pristina Corps is the peak called Gropa and the Albanian terrorists. The peak is just above Lucane; it was held by our police until just before the end of November. Why and under what circumstances the Police withdrew remains unknown for now.
"Just look at them sitting there and reading the paper. The one over there is doing the crossword. How are they supposed to watch the road? And their daily wages are 580 dinars; ours are only 200," Colonel Djuric and Djole "the Bomb" criticize the policemen on the local road as we head out to their troops.
Migrations: Through the fog landscapes typical of any village pass by. Ten or so ducks bob peacefully in the village brook.
Colonel Djuric, a native of Leskovac, tells us something about the villages through which we pass. Like a tour guide of sorts. Only this is no tour. Armed soldiers preceded us down this road. Djole "the Bomb" wears a bullet-proof vest. Just in case, he says. One never knows!
"The big, beautiful houses belong to the Albanians. The modest ones, of course, belong to Serbs."
"Colonel, are there Albanians here?"
"Of course, not all of them have left."
The proof that the Serbs are still here are the pigs in the yards. Some of them left. Most stayed. Waiting for the outcome. God willing they won't have to go anywhere. They've had enough of migrations. Where could they go?
Soldiers, both regular troops and reservists, and their officers are hurriedly putting up fortifications in the camp on the hillside. The foggy and cold day suggests that winter will be here right on schedule and that all "construction projects" should be finished up quickly.
In the tent we encounter the aroma of freshly cooked coffee and a stuffy air. There isn't enough light. Soldiers who are not on duty are resting on the mattresses. A third of them spend day and night in the most forward positions.
"Would you care for some coffee? It's freshly made. This stove does well by us."
According to Serbian custom, it is rude to refuse coffee when you visit someone's home for the first time. And it was good, military issue.
Zoran, the driver, a reservist, is a local. He serves the coffee as if he were at home, like a good host: first coffee, then conversation.
A short distance away some soldiers get up. They are here serving their mandatory military service. They seem almost too young to shave.
No secret: We wake Igor from Pozarevacki Aleksandrovac and Sasa from Sabac with our talk. Nineteen year-olds. Their contemporaries in other places live a little differently.
"Guys, are you scared?"
"No, we're not scared."
"But there's terrorists just across the way!"
"Yeah, but we're still not scared. They try to scare us. At night they beat on drums, they shout, they shoot, they play music. But they can't get to us," the soldiers answer slowly and hesitatingly.
The reservists use the opportunity to quiz the colonel when and how their wages will be arriving.
"I don't know. I have to check it out and then I'll tell you. I don't want to lie to you."
The fog clears a bit but not enough to be able to see Gropa and the Albanian terrorists.
"At night they fire a couple of rounds, just to tell us they're there. There's always about 20 or so terrorists on Gropa, the same ones. We watch them through our binoculars. They haven't fired at us," says Sasa.
Only a few hours earlier in the garrison at Bujanovac, Colonel Cirkovic said that the Army had not been attacked, adding that it would respond forcefully to any provocation. He also talked about terrorist camps at Dobrosin, Konculj and Lojane in Macedonia.
"It's no secret; KFOR knows everything. The Shiptar terrorists are getting their training from foreign instructors, that's why there is some military logic in their moves. They are forcing the Albanians in Veliki Trnovac, Mali Trnovac, Dobrosin, Konculj and other villages to take up arms. Some locals volunteer to do it. We know that those in Veliki Trnovac are refusing to. We drew an imaginary line some 15 days ago in order to prevent further terrorist operations."
They're here: Djole "the Bomb" makes the soldiers laugh. He visits them every day. He tells them anecdotes from previous wars.
"Come on, what are they missing out on? The food here's better than what they would get at home. Look, they even give them "Politika" to read. So they know everything that's going on. Alright, so there're no cafes or similar attractions. But what can you do. They're young, there'll be time later on."
On the road to the most forward positions, I greet the builders of the fortifications. They don't have time to talk.
Through the forest with an occasional ray of sunlight I arrive at the sentries' positions.
"Boys, how's it going?"
"It's quiet. We can't see them because of the fog. But they're here. And so are we. They can't get through."
Here, across the way from Gropa, our troops observe alertly. They wear bullet-proof vests and they're well-hidden in the forests.
I don't know what to ask them. It seems sort of stupid to ask a man holding a rifle whether he is afraid.
I leave silently, accompanied by a lieutenant. Besides my muddy shoes, the foggy air is heavy, too. Even heavier is the knowledge that rifles, snipers, mortars are pointed at these troops.
In the camp there is laughter. Djole "the Bomb" is still telling "jokes". In fluent Vranje dialect, he tells stories of his experiences while he was a soldier.
"So here you are. Alright, let's get going. We need to return the vehicle so we're in a hurry."
Before leaving we have our photo taken as keepsake. In front of a camouflaged tank, of course.
As we return, we leave Veliki Trnovac behind, the same villages behind. We arrive at the garrison where armored combat vehicles are parked at the entrance.
And as I leave the Bujanovac garrison, I cross my fingers.
The boys keeping watch across the way from Gropa, neither here nor there, deserve some luck.
Bujanovac again, a small town where only a day before the federal and state parliaments met. On that Saturday Bujanovac saw the president and the Prime Minister and the ministers... Dacic was here, as well as the omnipresent Rade Markovic. And many luxurious cars, mostly BMW's and Audi's...
The Serbs and the Gypsies of Bujanovac are afraid, the Albanians are not. They answer every question by saying that everything is fine. There are about 26,000 of them or 60 percent of the population. An accurate census was never carried out.
Some one hundred Serbs greeted President Kostunica in front of the town hall. They are hoping that Serbia will have to protect them.
"It's a relief to us to see that Kostunica will protect us. And the Army is here, too. If we could only force them to leave our land. We'll take up arms if we need to defend our homes".
They say that times have changed.
"Where are the snipers?"
"Here's a pair of binoculars. Look up there on the hillside between the two poplars. You can see the loophole."
"I see a man. He's moving!"
"Ha, ha. Of course there's a man. The sniper rifle can't fire all by itself now, can it."
Captain Nikola, the commander of the sentry which secures the front line in Lucane, all members of special forces antiterrorist units, says there aren't a lot of provocations from the Albanian side.
"We don't shoot either. We moved the line a little but we haven't received orders to go all the way into the village."
Suddenly a bus from Gnjilane arrives from the side where the Albanians are and where the Albanians from this side have fled. The policemen stop it. An inspection. The bus goes on toward Bujanovac.
Then a car pulls up.
"Is there a checkpoint on the road from Gnjilane to Lucane?"
"In seven or eight places," the Albanian tells our policeman.
Another policeman neatly records the name of those who pass through the checkpoint. All the names are Albanian.
From this side, Lucane looks like a pretty village. Except for the fact that it is divided into two parts. It also has a river, the Binacka Morava, dividing it. There is a mosque, of course, as well. The only thing Lucane has that other villages do not is loopholes and terrorists. "Our" side is desolate. Only a few elderly people remain here. And the Police.
"Hurry up. You're within range here."
There's a dog in the road. He gazes sadly at his masters. They're here, too, but in the part of the village under the control of the Albanian terrorists.