Chapter 2

Winter in Bosnia was bleak and cold. The wind howled down from the dominating peaks of Mt Scit and sucked out all the warmth from the body. Most of the mountain roads were impassable and the remoter areas were only accessible by helicopter. The few dozers we had were kept employed keeping the road open to Sarajevo.

For the Bosniaks, however, they were used to it with stock shut away in barns and food larders well supplied. By 2001, agriculture had been restarted with assistance from the EU mission and we were confident most civilians weren't in any particular hardship.

At Zenica, we were mainly tasked with road repair. Foreign contractors well also in evidence, building hospitals and schools, and lengthening the airport runway to take four engined transport planes.

Our relationship with the civil population was cordial and friendly. The last time German soldiers were in Bosnia, during the Hitler war, we hadn't left a good impression. Our unit, I-Bn-108, took it as an important part of our mission to repair the relationship between the Bundesheer and the Bosnian people. Indeed, being the first time German soldiers deployed abroad on active service since 1945, we took great pains to assure the civil population they had nothing to fear.

Not so much the local politicians and bureaucracy. In Bosnia there are three governments. First, there is the High Representative Authority Of the European Union Mission to Bosnia Herzegovina. Then, we have the Government of Bosnia Herzegovina which, in the early days was little more than a cypher, but, now, was trying to assert itself more and more. The third show was the Government of Republika Srbska administering areas along the Serbian border. The Serbs had their own embassy in Sarajevo and often interfered with any decision they didn't like - most of them, in fact. The ultimate goal was a federal system not unlike what we have here in Germany. For that to happen, politicians would have to abandon self interest and rivalry and that seems to be beyond them at present.

The authorities in the Zenica area displayed most of the failings of the only local model they had - Tito's Yugoslavia. A frightened and traumatised people seem to be drawn towards leaders that make the loudest noise. These often turn out to be inherently corrupt and self-serving. First, they acquire a big house, several cars and a staff three times larger than an equivalent German one. All this is paid for by European Union taxpayers. The price of peace is a high one.

Bosnian bureaucracy is bloated and glacial in its processes. Despite modern computers and technology, paid for by us Europeans 'naturlich', it takes months to make a decision and years to carry it out. Bribery has been a way of life for those in authority and continues to be so. For the Bundesheer units it is a constant frustration. Some public projects we were engaged in were stopped because some pen pushing government tyro decided the paper work wasn't in order. Such silliness was doubly frustrating because we were paying their goddam salaries.

I had a weeks leave in the middle of that Winter. I decided to check in on Alijan, Toli and Almira in Biljanovic. The road was out so I talked the Dutch into giving me a lift in the helicopter they used to supply the small garrison there.

I'd grown to like the family during those two weeks I spent up there. I often wondered how they were getting on. I'd promised them I'd be back and Bosnians are particularly serious about promises. My commander agreed and suggested it was good public relations.

The chopper deposited me on the snow covered flat area that is used as a football field and common cow pasture just outside the town. I jogged away through the storm of powder snow blown up by the chopper's rotor as clusters of Dutch soldiers bolted, bent double, for their bread, sausages and mail. I half slid down the hillside with my kit belted to my back until I came to the stone cottage.

Snow piled up everywhere - on the roof, barn - and there was a quad bike left outside under the porch. Clearly, Alijan was doing all right for himself. I knocked on the door and, after a long wait, I was confronted by a complete stranger. This guy was younger, with a moustache, and cold, cruel eyes. He looked me up and down and barked at me in Bosnian.

"Where's Alijan?" I asked.

"Eh? Alijan? Gone. All gone. You go, too."

"Where?"

Next, a short woman shuffled the guy aside and waved a piece of paper at me. "See?" she shouted. "Ours!" She waved her arm around. "All ours! Now, you go!"

A list of choice German profanities passed through my brain, but I suppressed them. Instead, I took the piece of paper and looked at the letterhead. Not much else made any sense to me, but I recognised the mark of the Canton Government of Zenica-Dobroj. It appeared to be a deed of some kind, complete with the seal of the Canton Adjudicator at the bottom. I handed it back, turned, and went back up the hill to see the Dutch commander.

He was a new guy, since last time I was up here. He didn't seem to know Alijan, Toli and Almira, but told me the family down the hill had recently arrived to claim their farm. I told him the farm belonged to another family, but, he just shrugged and said it was a civilian matter.

"Lieutenant," I said, frustrated at his lack of interest. "We have the power to overturn local decisions and appointments. This is a clear case of injustice and must not be allowed."

"Perhaps if you find this family, I'll listen to what they have to say."

"Do you know if they've left the district?"

"No," he shrugged. "Ask around. You seem to know these people. But, remember, this is my post. I don't want you Germans thinking you can come here and throw your weight around."

Generally, we got on well with the Dutch, but, there's always one duck in the pond who's a pain in the arse. Nevertheless, I went to see the other Dutch soldiers and they were a little more forthcoming. They told me the was family living in a barn just a little to the West of Biljanovic. One offered to show me the way.

"Don't mind the Lieutenant too much," the soldier said, as we trudged out of town. "He's young and new, and we're very stretched in these villages. He's scared of getting too close to the locals - getting in deep, if you know what I mean?"

"Partly," I told him. "I can understand him not wanting to get into arguments, but he is the ultimate authority, here. If it's beyond him, then he has a chain of command."

"Ah, but will that be like admitting you can't do the job? Can't make decisions without going up the chain? He's afraid - not like Nieuwkerk. He was here before - he wouldn't tolerate this bullshit."

"What happened?" I asked.

"The Canton decided Serbs should be in their designated areas - that they had no right to hold land in Bosniak areas. There're many farming families that were dispossessed by the Serbs and the Canton has been trying to find other land for them."

"That's 'ethnic cleansing' by stealth," I said.

"True, but I kind of understand why they'd do that. Toli could stay, because she's Bosniak, but she wouldn't leave Alijan. Alijan refused to leave because he said he's lived all his life here and no fucking upstart politician is going to make him go. At least, I think those were his words," the soldier chuckled.

"So?"

"So, some of Toli's relatives found them an old barn to live in while he's appealing the decision. Fat chance he has of succeeding, I think."

About a kilometre down the road was a stone barn, maybe 100 years old. Age is a hard thing to tell, when it comes to buildings. People's way of life has changed little since the Habsburgs ruled here. Marshal Tito's communists were wise not to interfere too much with these hardy mountain folk. Snow was piled up against the wall and I could see some slates on the roof had been recently repaired. The door was part broken down and the holes plugged with dried dung and straw. The Dutchman tapped on the door and there was a response like a growl from inside.

"Alijan, a visitor," the soldier called.

"Who? Tell them to go away."

"Alijan," I called, "It's me - Walter."

"The Germanski?" came a cry. Suddenly, the door was dragged back far enough to permit Toli's slight frame. "You came!"

Alijan, himself, burst through next and grabbed me in a bear hug. Although shorter than me, he was stocky and my feet left the ground. Depositing me, I'd scarcely sucked in a breath when Toli took my shoulders and planted a kiss on each of my cheeks. I looked to see Almira's face at the door. She was pale, but her dark eyes were bright with joy. Toli waved her out and she hesitantly moved towards me. I took her waist and brought her in for a hug. Her body then melted against me and she clung on for dear life - and an unseemly length of time.

"Hey!" Toli cautioned, "you wait till after the wedding!"

"Wedding?" the young Dutch soldier said in surprise. "This your, er ... I mean, congratulations, Lieutenant. She's a very pretty woman."

"And you don't look so hard, soldier," Toli rounded on the man. "She is going to live in Germany in a big house. An Officer's wife who will give me lots of grandchildren. He will declare for the Faith and take my daughter on the Haj."

"He will?" the Dutch soldier said, incredulous. "I, ah, beg your pardon, Mrs. And, Lieutenant, I didn't mean any disrespect to your..."

I was struck dumb, it's true. I thought the subject of betrothal to Almira had become a dead issue.

"Toli, leave the men alone," said Alijan. "Give these kids time to get to know each other before you have them before the registrar."

Almira backed away in shyness. She looked down at my feet and pulled her headscarf across her face.

"Come into our home?" Toli continued. "You, Dutchman. Would you like some tea?"

"Ah, no, Mrs," he replied. "I have my, ah, care package from home and there's some gifts from my kids..."

"Of course, you must go. Lieutenant? You are welcome to stay, but our home is not..."

"I understand, Toli. I have a few little things that..."

"Ah, so?" she said, ushering me through the door. "You brought some gifts for our family? Are you sure you were never a Moslem?"

"I don't think so," I told her, as she croaked with laughter.

They'd tried to fix up the barn as best they could, but it was still cold, damp and still a barn. A bed for Alijan and Toli had been made with bales of straw and calico coverings. More cloth hung on cane poles to screen off the sleeping area. Almira's privacy was catered for in a similar fashion in the opposite corner. Washing and ablutions were carried on outside in the snow with a portable screen and water heated on a camp stove. On the floor, the bare earth was partly covered with rugs. They had little furniture and that was donated by Toli's relatives. Again, most of Toli's pots and pans had been stolen by the new inhabitants of their cottage. Empty baked bean cans served as drinking vessels and I cursed myself for not bringing some more basic utensils for them.

"Come?" said Alijan, and sat me down on a packing box by a table made from a cable drum. A mat was placed over it and Alijan held out two empty jam jars. In them, he tipped a good slug of moonshine brandy from a stone jar and pushed one across to me.

Moonshine in these mountains should always be approached with caution. The quality of the stuff differed a great deal and some you could successfully run a gasoline engine on. Fortunately, this wasn't too bad, but I only took the smallest of sips.

"Ah, it is good to see you," Alijan told me. His breath already reeked of alcohol and his speech was slurred. "I'm sorry you should see us like this."

"You have an appeal?" I asked.

"Some hotshot lawyer," he shrugged. "But it is a waste of time. The Canton don't want us here. They tell us to go the Serbs, but they won't want us either. If we had money, there wouldn't be a problem. We pay the officials a fee and everything will go away. It has always been the same."

"How much are they asking?"

"5000, 10,000 Marka. It doesn't matter. Even if I had that sort of money, why should I pay them a Pfennig? You tell me why I should give them money to get back what is mine?"

"You've seen the Dutch officer?"

"He sent me away. Said it was a civilian matter. I think the Bosniaks pay him."

"You think so? This must be reported. That is outrageous."

"Do what you like. It will do no good. We will probably have to go to Serbia. You take my daughter away? You do this for us? Toli - we can look after ourselves, but Almira - she will have no life there in Serbia. She will need someone to look after her. She is a good, dutiful girl. She will make you a fine wife. Take her out of this place."

"Um!" I stammered, ineffectually. Alijan stared at me with alcohol fogged eyes expecting an answer. What could I say to this desperate man? How could I marry an uneducated girl I barely knew? I hardly knew anything about her religion. Almira, who knew but two or three words of German. Perhaps, I thought, there was some other solution?

"You need time to think," he suggested. "Talk to her. Love is a strange thing. Sometimes it takes time and sometimes it burns hot. I know Almira loves her Walschen. I know this, even though she has not told us. I see it in her heart when we speak of you. She wants to be the wife of an officer."

"I will talk to her," I told him. I wanted to relieve his distress. In any case, I thought I could come up with some other plan.

I moved over to Toli and Almira waiting expectantly at the other table - another cable drum with packing boxes. I felt Alijan's desperate eyes on me all the time. Toli would have to translate for me - not an auspicious beginning to a courtship.

"Almira?" I said. She turned to me and looked into my eyes. I saw longing, desperation and fear written all over her pale face. My heart skipped a beat and I couldn't think of anything to say. Almira was astonishingly, and eye-catchingly beautiful and from then on, my heart began to set the agenda.

What happened to me that Winter was the stuff of every cloying romance novel. I never imagined such things happened outside of a book. Her hand was on the table and I slowly reached out and touched it with my fingertips. She looked down at it, and I sensed a sly grin began to grow on Toli's face. Across the room, Alijan leaned back in satisfaction and took another gulp of brandy from his jam jar.

"See?" said Toli, to whom, I don't know.