Croats triumphant

By Julius Strauss in Sisak

7 August 1995

The blonde policewoman stood erect watching late night Croatian news. Her pose was military, her shoulders back, breasts forward.

"This is good, very good," she said as she watched a Serb spokesman beg for western intervention to halt the Croat army.

"We have waited four years for this. Soon we will have Knin. Today, maybe tomorrow we will have it. Then the UN can go home." Her eyes glistened.

All over Croatia in the clubs and bars the mood is one of triumph. At last the Croats have the Serbs on the back foot is the refrain being echoed across this unwieldy boomerang-shaped republic.

Nobody thought it would be easy. When Croat President Franjo Tudjman launched an attack on the breakaway Krajina Serbs in May, Serbian troops shelled central Zagreb. But this time the they never came.

Yesterday the people of Zagreb were beginning to hope that the Serbs' long-range guns had been forced out of range. And Tudjman is taking the credit. "Tudjman is good, good, good," one man shouted in broken English.

Ljiljana Ivancic, a pensioner, said: "I think this is an outstanding move. We've had enough of everything that was. We should have done this earlier."

Ivica Nerlic said: "I've been waiting for this since the beginning. I don't think we have much to fear now and I think the situation will be resolved soon. We must overrun the Serbs. Most of them are scared and don't really want to fight."

In Sisak, a front-line town, the mood was more dour. Serbian artillery have been targeting the town since the latest offensive began and locals have barred their doors against the background thud and rumble of the shells.

Streets are deserted except for the very old on bicycles and ambulances ferrying military casualties from the front-line to local hospitals.

The road to the front line was also deserted. Croatian soldiers hid in reinforced bunkers or garages. In one shelter several unshaven soldiers lay asleep on the floor.

The people of Sisak, many who fled towns further south when the Serbs invaded four years ago, are full of hate. "We must kill all Serbs," says 16-year-old Robert Santic while his parents nod their heads approvingly.

"Then I can go home," added 10-year-old Marinella Bosic. Robert and Marinella both fled the nearby town of Petrinja with their families at the beginning of the war. Today their home is the scene of fierce fighting.

The road to Petrinja was closed at Sisak. From nowhere two Mig fighters screamed across the landscape. The sound of shelling became more intense and even the stalwart old peasants no long showed their wizened faces.

A shell landed close by. In their bunkers the Croat militiamen looked nervous. Ukrainian UN soldiers peeked out from under cover. But the road was blocked by a barrier.

"This is the final reckoning," a local Croat journalist says. "If we had left it any longer we would have lost the Krajina forever."

But even among the Croats not all are happy. Martina, a receptionist at the Sisak hotel, is pained by the latest bout of fighting. "It is a tragedy. Only dying, more dying."