Ten years on, war victory still weighs on Croatia

Sun Jul 31, 2005 2:08 AM BST

By Zoran Radosavljevic

KNIN, Croatia (Reuters) - While the Croats gear up to celebrate the 10th anniversary of victory over a Serb rebellion, Milica Jelinic is quietly struggling to mend her shattered life in the nearby village of Bobodol.

The 81-year old Jelinic fled her home together with up to 200,000 other local Serbs when Zagreb's troops stormed across U.N.-patrolled truce lines in August 1995 to crush a four-year old Serb rebellion.

For Jelinic and her kin, that offensive, code-named Operation Storm, was the end of life as she knew it in Bobodol.

"I hurriedly packed one bag and drove away in a neighbour's car. I left behind my brother, three cows and 60 sheep. We were wealthy, you know," she said, her wrinkled, sun-burnt hand showing the sprawling yard, now empty but for a few chickens.

Ten years later, in Knin itself, there are few tell-tale signs left of what took place here in August 1995.

Houses on the main road have been rebuilt, roads repaired, the streets are lined with cafes and teeming with people.

But a short drive into the surrounding barren plains tell a different story -- of scattered ghost villages strewn with shell-scarred houses overgrown with ivy and tall grass.

They belonged to Serbs who, like Jelinic, fled the swift Croat advance between August 4 and 7, 1995.

It is that offensive that Croatia will celebrate in Knin on August 5. Prime Minister Ivo Sanader is scheduled to address top state and military leaders and thousands of Croats.

DISASTER

Croats see Operation Storm as an end to four difficult years caused by the Serb rebellion, which cut the country in half and destroyed its economy, tourism and infrastructure.

For most Serbs, Storm was a mass exodus from what had been their home since their ancestors came here in the 17th century.

"For us, August 5 was one of the biggest disasters that ever struck this people. We left behind jobs, homes, everything, and until recently no one really encouraged us to return. I guess someone somewhere liked the idea of us not coming back," said Jovan Tisma, a local Serb official.

The Homeland Thanksgiving Day, as the holiday came to be called in Croatia, has been fraught with darker undertones.

"The Storm itself was a brilliant military operation, for which we had Washington's tacit approval, and it helped end the wars in Croatia and Bosnia," said Mate Granic, foreign minister at the time.

"But the events that followed -- killings, burning, looting -- really harmed Croatia. It can still feel the consequences," he told Reuters.

They earned three of Croatia's top generals war crimes indictments from the U.N. tribunal at The Hague. One of the generals, Ante Gotovina, is still on the run and his fugitive status blocks Croatia's bid for European Union membership.

The tribunal's chief prosecutor, Carla del Ponte, has labelled the operation 'a joint criminal enterprise' masterminded by top state leaders to drive away most local Serbs -- a charge vehemently denied by all Croat politicians.

The proof, they say, is that Zagreb is now financing the reconstruction of Serb houses, systematically destroyed two months after the blitz. Although security is not bad, most Serbs who come back face hostility, red tape and dim job prospects.

WASTELAND

When Jelinic returned in 1998, her brother was killed, her house torched and livestock taken away. Jelinic settled for living alone in a small wine-cellar beneath the vestiges of her house ever since.

"The cellar is small and I cannot stand upright. But my papers are in order and I'm waiting for the house to be rebuilt," she said.

The village, with its few elderly residents, has no shop, church, school, doctor, electricity or running water. "Only the graveyard is active," said Pero Jankovic, 68, with a wry smile.

After Operation Storm, almost two-thirds of Croatia's minority Serbs fled to Bosnia and Serbia. About 100,000 have returned. Their return is a major issue in Croatia's EU bid.

"When we came back last November, the house was burnt and pillaged, there was no livestock. But the state helped us rebuild and gave me some pension. We are happy to be back. No place like home, you know," he said.

But he said that, although more and more Serbs wanted to go back after a decade in refugee camps in neighbouring Serbia, the region's prospects remained bleak.

"Our children don't want to come back. Youngsters won't return, they don't know what to expect, there are no jobs. After we die, this will become a wasteland".