Adamant
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Australian Politics
Posts: 1892
Brisbane
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"You won't stay alive. bugger your Montenegrin mother," hissed the murderer and plunged a bayonet into my breast - fortunately on the right side. When I regained consciousness, I learned that I was at the bottom of the hollow on a heap of bodies. I was terribly thirsty and slowly got used to the darkness. Somehow I managed to pull my left, uninjured arm out from under my body. With its help, I pulled out my right, completely immobile arm. Carefully I felt around me. Everywhere there were only bodies. There was something sticky on my hand. I began to shiver from the cold. In the heap of bodies, someone was gasping as if he were snoring. The horrifying feeling to be on a heap of dead people forced me to find a safe place, no matter where. I heard something that sounded like water dripping, which instilled even more the feeling of thirst in me. I stared in that direction and felt my way to a little split in the cliff and stuck my head in. In vain I tried to get a few drops of water into my dry mouth. Suddenly I heard the rattling of the motors, then people running back and forth and screams of pain, then the cracking of guns and the dull sound of victims rolling down the cliff. They fell like logs all around me, like the stones that the shepherds of Korita used to throw into the gorge to frighten the pigeons. This process was repeated about ten times in brief spurts; then there was dead silence in the Koritska Jama. Once the truck had taken off in the direction of Korita, I noticed that someone was scraping along the walls of the cliff. He found my hiding place, laid himself between my legs, and rested his head on me. I felt his head with my good hand and asked: "Who are you?" He gave a start, quickly composed himself and answered: "it's me!" By his voice I recognized Vidak Glusac and said: "For God's sake, Vidak. How did you get here? Didn't the Ustashe release you after you confessed to having a gun?" "Oh no!" cried Vidak. "Those scoundrels broke their promise; after I surrendered the gun, they brought me back again and put me in the truck. Then they drove me to the gorge and threw me in alive." Three more times the truck came to the gorge from the Sokolski Dom loaded with the other unfortunate ones, and the massacre was continued in the same way. At first we could hear curses mixed with cries of pain, then the crack of guns, dull blows, and finally the bodies rolling down the face of the cliff. The heap of bodies at the bottom of the gorge got higher and higher. From there we could hear the last gasps of the victims who were not yet dead; with our help, a few managed to escape death. When in the twilight of 5 June the last group had been liquidated, we determined that a total of eight people had survived this fateful night: Milija Bjelica, Radovan Sakota, Dusan and Acim Jaksic, Rade Svorcan, Vidak and Vlado Glusac, and Obren Nosovic. With an insane fear, we were sure that the bodies of our wives, children, and elders were lying there before us. We breathed a sigh of relief and for a moment forgot this darkest human insanity that we had survived under miraculous circumstances, when into the pit fell our bags, the blankets, and other things that our women folk had brought while we were imprisoned in the Sokolski Dom. Also various tools fell down: axes, hammers, adzes, with which the henchmen had killed their victims. Some hand grenades also followed, which fortunately fell into the cliff wall high above us and exploded there. Finally a whole heap of rock debris came tumbling down. We also heard derisive calls like: "Haman, didn't we find you a nice hiding place and covered you with a nice soft blanket." A while later we heard the bells of a big herd of cows passing the Koritska Jama in the direction of Kula Fazlagic. While the gorge of Golubnjaca was still steaming from the blood of the murder victims, the murderers ran into the village like beasts of prey to plunder the animals and other mobile belongings of their victims, thus leaving the orphaned children, wives, and weak old folk without a drop of milk. Later I read in an Ustasha report that on this occasion 5,294 head of small and large animals were driven from Korita. I maintain that the number was greater by far, for the village of Korita had been famous for its wealth of animals, especially goats and sheep. We spent all of 5 June in the gorge and didn't try to do anything. Only in the evening twilight, when everything was still, did Dusan Jaksic and Radovan Sakota, who were not seriously wounded, try to get out of the gorge. First Radovan Sakota laid me so that the water would drip on any face from the side; I managed to get individual drops into my mouth. Dusan and Radovan used axes and rope that the Ustashe had thrown into the gorge and they succeeded in climbing out. We waited in fear for what would happen then; we were afraid that Ustasha guards had been placed around the gorge. Only when a belt was thrown down from above (we planned it thus) did we know that everything was OK. This again aroused our hopes for rescue. But we had to wait for a long time yet in the dark grave of so many people and in the unbearable stench of blood and bodies. Again on 6 June, the Ustashe plundered the village and liquidated the arrested Milosevics from the village of Nemanjica and the Milovics from Zagradac near the school in Korita. Along with the Milosevics and the Milovics, Radovan Sarovic from Stepen was killed on this day, while the mutilated bodies of Dorda Glusac and Branko Kovacevic were found later at the wall of the Trkljina. On the Kubilia headlands, they shot seven of the Milovics, while three men (Radovan, Blagoje, and Lazar) were able to escape; the brothers Milovan and Dusan Milosevic managed to escape from the courtyard of the school at Korita, so that the news of the Ustasha crimes was spread like the wind throughout all of northeast Herzegovina. Armed people from Gornje and Donje Crkvice, Vrbica, Somina, Crni Kuk, and other neighboring villages rushed to the Koritska Jama to rescue the survivors. All the adults of the Kurdulija fraternity joined them, who knew this area well. After they had gotten strong backup from Gacko and Bilece, a group came to the gorge. As long as I live, I will remember the moment when we heard the strong voice of Todor Micunovic from Crkvice: "Oh Milija, try to be patient. Don't worry, we will get you out of here." Soon the brave and bold Petar Kurdulija climbed down on a rope into the gorge. From up above they called to him that he should tie me first, because I was the most seriously wounded; then one after the other, as many as they could; apparently they were afraid that stronger units of the Ustasha or of Italians could come. But I asked Petar to take up the 16-year-old Rado Svorcan first, because his mother had only him, while mine had two children. Only after I heard a determined voice from above: "Don't worry, Milija, you will all get out," did I consent to being the first to be pulled up. Petar wrapped the rope around my belly, tied my broken right arm to my breast, and told me that I had to hold the rope tight with my left hand and kick myself out from the cliff with my legs. That's how I was pulled up from the gorge of Golubnjaca, which since this terrible event has been known as Koritska Jama, the common grave of Svorcan, Bjelica, Glusac, Nosovic, Jaksic, Sakota, Milosevic, Milovic, Kovacevic, and all the others - in all, over 150 victims. While the others were being pulled out, there was a misunderstanding: someone called out that an Italian, motorized column was coming from Bilece. The rescue was thus interrupted; only Obren Nosovic was still in the gorge. But our rescuers waited. When the error was cleared up, Ljubo Kurdulija, later a fearless warrior whose heroic deeds were the talk of all of Herzegovina, climbed down into the gorge and brought Obren up. After I had been brought up into the daylight, I could hardly believe that I had escaped death, which had been hovering before my eyes for almost five whole days (I was arrested on 2 June). I heard and recognized the voices of my rescuers, among whom was my mother. She asked about Golub, and I only looked at her. Obren Nosovic's son pulled at my sleeve and asked: "Uncle is my father still alive?" "One Obren Nosovic is alive. But I don't know which one, since both had been thrown into the gorge," I replied with great effort. They immediately put me onto a horse and we took off. In the saddle, I managed to hold out until we got to Mrda Kurduliga's house, which was not far away. There they had prepared a stretcher, on which they carried me to the house of Vulo Micunovic in Crkvice. Soon the other survivors from the village of Korita came there. The residents of Crkice and the members of other neighboring Montenegrin villages welcomed us as kindly as their grandfathers had done in the past. They shared not only their homes with us, but also the last piece of bread. Armed men went to Gacko immediately, where, as they told us, battles had begun against the Ustasha For that, the surviving inhabitants of the village of Korita will forever be grateful to them. We who had survived the massacre in the Koritska Jama were examined by Dr. Vojo Dukanovic and Dr. Jovan Bulajic. Vojo gave me a shot for blood poisoning and told Vulo Micunovic, in whose house I was, to get me to the hospital in Niksic as quickly as possible and to have me operated on there, because it was the only way to save any life. That is what happened. Micunovic and the Kraljevics brought me to Miksic on a stretcher with the help of other residents of Crkvice; with us came also the two doctors mentioned above. Thanks to their connections, I was taken into the hospital and operated on immediately. I was in treatment for 48 days.
Quoted in Dedijer, p155-164
I don’t hate Muslims, after reading this account I can understand why a lot of people do.
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