Видео свједочење: Славко Милановић, Међувође
Prezivam se Milanović Slavko, rođen sam 1936.godine u selu Međuvođe, na Knežpolju, sada je to opština Kozarska Dubica.
Selo se prostire na samim obroncima severozapasnog dela planine Kozare.Rođen sam u siromašnoj seljačkoj porodici.Imao sam jednu sestru, bila je mlađa od mene godinu i po dana. U vreme kapitulacije Jugoslavije otac mi je bio u Jugoslovenskoj vojsci. Kao što sam rekao. Moje detinjstvo je, kako bih kazao, bilo pre rata, i za vreme rata kad je kapitulirala Jugoslavija. Sećam se prvih dana ratnog doba… jer, nekih stvari se sećam dobro, nekih pogrešno, a nekih nikako.Ali, ono što se sjećam, na primer jednog dana, posle podne, pred noć, video sam grupu ljudi , još nisu bili uniformisani, ali su bili napružani od lovačke puške do gvozdenih vila.Idu preko brda prema Dubici.To je jedno selo, zove se Agejci. Brdo je Kruškovac.Tu su vršili zasede.Očekivali su Nemce i ustaše na putu Dubica-Prijedor. I ja pitam majku: “Mama, mama, a šta će onom zadnjem kosa?” On nosi kosu , a onaj prvi pušku nosi. ”Sine”, kaže ona, “ oni idu u borbu”. “Kako sa kosom”? “On nema pušku, ali on će je oteti sa kosom”. To je jedan detalj koji sam ja baš dobro zapamtio sa početka rata, 1942.godine.
Međutim, još par puta su Nemci nadirali od Dubice prema Prijedoru. Pa, sjećam se jednog dana početkom februara, bila je jaka zima i veliki sneg. Partizanski narodno-osolobodilački odred je bio u planini Kozari, to je blizu našeg sela. I Nemci su došli u naše selo, to je već obronak Kozare, i vodili su borbu sa partizanima.Mi smo imali malu kućicu. To je još bilo pre paljevine. A očev stric je imao malo veću kuću, tu blizu, u susednom dvorištu. Mene, majku i sestru su Nemci premestili da budemo kod strica u kući preko dana, a oni su baš iz te naše kućice dejstvovali prema Kozari. Imali su prozor otvoren i oni su baš sa tog prozora puškom i mitraljezom dejstvovali prema partizanima ceo dan. Kad se borba utišala, majka je posle uzela nas dvoje dece da idemo u kuću, da vidimo. I video sam da je Nemac naslonio pušku na jednu ogradu, to je ograda gde se hrana za stoku stavlja, i pucao. Opalio je jedan metak prema jugozapadnom delu.Međutim, mi nismo znali na koga on to puca. Sutradan se ispostavilo da je ranio očevog strica. On je bio pobegao prema Kozari, u šumu, i kad je borba se utišala, on je pošao kući, i čim je izišao na jednu čistinu, tu je bila jedna barica. Al’ tu je bio put i reka jedna Mlečanica.I čim je izašao na tu čistinu, Nemac ga je vido . A do te doline je bilo više od 900 metara, tako da ga je pogodio u nogu.
Taj dan je bio zapamćen kod nas, već prvi dan, po ubistvima, zločinačkim ubistvima, kako mogu da kažem.Muškarci od 14-15 godina i stariji su morali pobeći, jer se znalo da nadiru Nemci, da Nemci dolaze. I pobegli su u šumu. Baš u prve šume i u Kozaru. Međutim, očev stric, koji i nije bio toliko star, imao je 50 i nekoliko godina, i još jedan jedan stričević – stric, oni su ostali u kućama i dočekali Nemce. Kad su Nremci došli, onda su ih oni držali kao taoce i rekli im da ne smiju da izađu iz kuće ceo dan, da nigde ne smiju izići. Kad su se završile borbe, Nemci su pošli natrag, vratili se prema putu Dubica- Prijedor. Tu je bilo jedno mesto gde je bila žandarmerijska stanica. Knežica se zvalo to mesto. Oni su ih na prevaru…Rekli su stricu da povede volove, imao je dva vola i morao je da sluša naređenja. Ovaj drugi stric, stričević, on je poveo konja. I oni su pre noći otišli prema…Mi nismo znali gde će. Međutim, drugi dan, nažalost, vest je došla da su oni poubijani. Volovi su došli u toku noći, vratili su se…Interesantno da volove nisu uzeli, baš dobri su bili…Drugi dan je vest došla da su u Knežici ubijeni ljudi i da dođe ko ima da prepozna te ljude.Očev stric je bio tako unakažen! Ruke odsečene! Oči povađene!Uši isečene! Nos otsečen!
– Jeste li Vi išli da to vidite?
Nisam ja.
– To Vam je majka pričala?
To mi je majka pričala. Jer ja sam bio dete i nisam…To se ne sećam ja, to mi je ona pričala posle. Ali, tog dana se sećam dobro, pucnjave i snega. Sneg je bio veliki. Zima je bila, ali je bilo vedro i sunčano.
– A je li rekla majka ko ga je ubio?
Ne znam, ne znam. Bila je i strina živa i sestra od strica, bila je sa očevom strinom. To je očeva strina i očev stric. Al ne zna se…Pa, pretpostavljalo se da su ustaše, ali ustaše koje nisu bile uniformisane, nego su bili saradnici ustaške strane…
– Neka paravojska?
To je bilo … da li su bili muslimani ili ustaše… Eto , to je taj prvi dan, kad je to bilo kod nas u selu, to je, znači, februar 1942.godine, kad je bio taj masakr ljudi.
– Masakr u Knežici?
Da, u Knežici. Tu su ih pobili, tu su nađeni.To je 16-ti kilometar od Dubice prema Prijedoru. To je jedno osam kilometara od naših kuća. To je taj bio jedan dan, koliko se ja sećam, dejstva pred ofanzivu.Onda se tu govorkalo, to su odrasli ljudi i žene govorili o tome kako će i šta će da bude za ovu ofanzivu…Ja to ništa nisam znao osim posle kad sam čitao knjige, posebno Dragoja Lukića, a onda ima i ona “Kozarska ofanziva “ i tako. Međutim, vremena spremanja za zbeg, za bežanje u šumu u Kozari,e – toga se sećam…Dva tri dana su, danima i danima su ljudi noću išli i vozili ovim zapregama, volovskim i konjskim zapregama vozili stvari i bežali u šumu. Ja pitam majku “Zašto?” ”Pa bežimo, sine, od ustaša, od Nemaca, da se sklonimo u šumu,” kaže mi ona. To je sve bilo organizovano – koje će selo kako i gde da se smesti na Kozari.Pošto smo blizu Kozare, mi smo među zadnjima išli u šumu.I sad, onaj dan kad je svanuo, ja sam se radovao tom odlasku, ne znajući šta to znači. Došao je deda po majci. On je odredio svoju mlađu ćerku, ime joj je bilo Persa, da ide sa mojom majkom, jer je bilo nas dvoje dece, da bi majka mogla jedno dete nositi i paziti, a ona drugo. I spremili smo tog jutra što je moglo u torbu da se stavi. Poveli smo kravu i tele radi mleka. I malo brašna smo poneli da bi se u šumi u bajtama, tamo su praviljene bajte, nisu ni bajte bile nego kolibe od pruća i grana jelovih, tek da se pokrijemo nečim, to je prokišnjavalo. I sećam se, kad smo došli tamo, da je određeno bilo koje će selo biti gde smešteno u kom delu tog logora. U to vreme su nam partizani davali hranu iz kuhinje njihove, ako je nekad ostalo. Al’ ono što smo mi imali…Svaki dan smo imali, znači, mleka.Ali, bilo je teško za brašno. Nema, u selo se ne može, bilo je žita u kućama, ali ne može se u selo više ići. Tako da je bilo – skuvati mleka i piti ili od ljutikovine, trave one,list od bukve i graba, ili posle kiše ona medljika – pa sam i to lizao posle kiše, kao mednu rosu, ili ljutikovinu travu, onaj list jesti umesto hrane. E, sad, to je, tolko se toga se sećam.
Međutim, dani proboja kada su bili, ja tad nisam znao da je to 3. i 4. juli i 1942.godina, nego sam posle to čitao i učio u školi. Prvi proboj kad je bio, ja se ničeg od toga ne sećam, ništa ne znam.Znam samo da je borba bila, pucnjava kakva već godinu i više dana traje i – ništa više. Međutim, drugi proboj kad je pokušan pa nije uspeo, 4/5.juli, to je bilo strahovito, lomljava, bombardovanje iz aviona, nemačkih aviona “štuka“. Kad je jutro već svanulo, partizani više nisu davali nikakav otpor – a najveći deo je već izginuo, mali deo se izvukao, a ono malo što je ostalo, oni su se povukli u šume i posle, ne znam ni ja kako, po grupama su se spašavali zadnji.
Nas su zarobile ustaše, ustaše i ovi… domobrani. Oni su nas pokupili. Sve su sad skupljali.A pre toga, oni su bombardovali šumu i narod, zbeg gde je bio. I sećam se, pala je jedna bomba blizu, pred neku bukvu. Imali smo tu bukvu jednu koja se izvalila od tog bombardovanja i imala je ogromne žile i mnogo zemlje na tom korenju. I mi smo bežali pod nju, da se zaklonimo.Jedan čovek je bio ranjen, ranilo ga u ruku, on je izbezumljen stao i tad sam video da mu krv iz ruke pišti kao ono kod petla kad se zakolje pa onako šikne iz vrata. Ja sam pokušao da idem ka njemu, sve je oko nas gorelo, ali majka me brzo uhvatila za ruku i sakrila pod te žile od te bukve izvaljene. I , posle nekog vremena, pokupili su nas ustaše i zbili nas na jedan proplanak u šumi. A bilo je i Nemaca s njima. Odmah su žicu opasali da ne bismo bežali.
I posle podne, polako u kolonu, pa prema Jasenovcu.Kad smo došli tamo u Jasenovac, nabili su tamo, bilo je kao u košnici. A sunce upeklo! Svako jutro, ustaše su odvajali malu decu od majki.Moja majka i još nekoliko njih koje su bile tu blizu, bile su to njene snaje, žene njene braće, krile su nas u krpe. To ja zovem krpe, jer to nisu bile neke određene stvari.Ćebadi ili jorgana nije bilo. Bile su samo neke krpe na kojima smo spavali i kojima smo se pokrivali.Tako, svako jutro, pokrije nas majka. Sestra i ja smo znali toliko da ćutimo, da se nismo javljali, čekali smo da ustaše prođu. Tako danas, tako sutra. I tako smo mi ostali, sestra i ja smo ostali neodvojeni od naše majke. Nisam samo ja, i deca tih par žena koje su se setile da kriju decu.U logoru, jednom, sećam se samo da su skuvali pasulj, i to bez ikakve zaprške, nešto onako, samo skuvano i, ako ima neko neku posudu, oni bi mu tamo to dali.Drugo nije bilo, to je retko bilo.
Međutim, tetka moja, ona je bila devojka koja se pripremala za udaju, pa je imala neke ručne radove. Sećam se, ona je imala nešto što se kod mene zvalo plait, to je bilo rukom veženo čime se prekrivao krevet. To je bilo nešto skupo, rukom veženo, ručni rad. To – ne samo od moje tetke, nego i od dru gih žena – one Hrvatice su donosile po parče hleba do žice, puštali su ih ustaše, i pokazivale su parče hlebaili kukuruznog ili od pšenice kroz žicu i sad – koja će im žena doneti bolji komad ručnog rada ili taj prekrivač…I moja tetka je dala taj plait, kako bih ja rekao – čaršav veženi, za pola manjeg hleba. Tako da je bilo hrane donekle, samo po malo, ipak je to majka određivala po malo da se jede da bi ostalo i za sutra i drugi dan. Pa se sećam i drugog primera, da je majka imala brašna malo u torbi, i sad, nema druge, nema tu gde da kuva ili peče, nego jedino onako pospe brašna kukuruznog na dlan, i srećm imala je šaku soli, pa se to posoli – e, to sam ja kao ovca, kao jagnje polizao i napio se vode. I to je jednim delom doprinelo tome da sam preživeo te dane i te godine. Posle nekog vremena, doneta je odluka tamo u logoru da treba jedan deo radne snage tim hrvatskim porodicama čiji su sinovi i muževi bili u vojsci, da li u ustašama ili domobranima, i tako su oni odredili, nisu prebrojavali nego samo odredili jednu grupu da ide prema Novskoj. Otvorili su kapiju i rekli: „Idete u sela …“ ta i ta. Ja se ne sećam kako su to određivali gde će ko da ide, ali moja porodica i ja smo došli u Banove Jaruge kod jedne porodice čija su dva sina bila u domobranima. Majka i tetka su bile sposbne za rad i one su obavljale poljske poslove.Ujutro rano one si odlazile na posao sa malo slanine i hleba, ceo dan su ostajale u polju i tek naveče se vraćale kući. A ja sam kao dete, onako rano legnem, pa po par dana ne vidim ni mamu ni tetku. Zato što one rano odu dok ja još spavam,a vrate se kasno kad sam ja već zaspao.To su ti momenti. Dalje, koliko se ja sećam, jednom, to je bilo tamo negde krajem oktobra- novembra, preko narodno-oslobodlačkog odbora je organizovano (nije više bilo potrebe da radimo kod tih ljudi- majka i tetka, a ne ja) da su nas prebacili preko Save tim čamcima.Ali smo išli uzvodno prema Sisku, Psunji. Tu kod Psunje su nas prevezli preko Save, i onda smo dalje išli peške uzvodno do Une i onda smo prešli Unu između Kostajnice i Novog Grada. Una je bila manja reka. Mi smo pravili pun krug jer nismo smeli ići prema Dubici, jer u Dubici je bio veoma jak ustaški garnizon.Obično smo noću putovali. Po danu smo bili negde u šumi prikriveni da nas ne bi neko otkrio.I došli smo u selo, moje selo.Kad smo došli u selo, većina kuća je bila popaljena, poneka kućica samo je ostala nezapaljena.Moja kućica je bila istozapaljena. Bila je to šeperuša, od drveta blatom lepljenog. Bila je zapaljena, ali nije izgorela. Bio je nagoreo neki kao kredenac, ali to je bilo puno drvo i nije izgorelo, nije to kao ovo sada nego ono od pre, I tavan je bio nagoreo, ali vrata su bila skinuta, prozori, daska ako je koja gde bila. Dok je ofanziva bila tu u junu i julu, Nemci i ustaše su to poskidali i pravili zemunice, one, kako bih rekao – rovove, rovove…Sve smo mi to našli posle, ali smo vadili iz zemlje jer je to bilo ostalo, ti bunkeri njihovi. Mi smo to vadili i vraćali.A od stoke ništa nismo našli.Jedino nam je keruša ostala, ona je bila jedino verna, ona je ostala kod kuće. S obzirom da smo tu bili negde na prelazu 1942 na 1943, korov je bio obrastao, nigde stoke, nigde kokoške, nigde svinje ni krave, nigde ništa. Žita nema. Kuća nema drugih. Onda, tako te porodice, obično žena sa decom sitnom… Muškarci su ili bili poginuli ili ubijeni u logoru koji su bili zarobljeni u Kozari, a ostali koji su prije bili aktivni u partizanima, oni su ostali u partizanima. Tako da smo bili samo žene i djeca tu. I onda smo spavali tu zajedno, u jednoj kućici, u nekom podrumu, gde je bilo skrovitije. Prehranjivali smo se kao za vreme divljaštva, skupljanjem plodova. Kad smo se vratili to je bilo kasno u jesen, tako da nije bilo ni voća. Bilo je ponešto zimskih jabuka i krušaka, ali žita nije bilo.To je odneto. Možda je po neki uspravljen kukuruz ostao negde u kupinama, ali to je bilo malo i sitno… tako da smo se prehranili nekako,uz neku pomoć koja je doturana preko tog narodno-oslobodilačkog odbora : po neka kila ne pšenice nego kukuruznog brašna, kukuruza. A masti i ulja, toga nije bilo.Tek druge godine ulje smo pravili od – neki kažu duleci, neki kažu bundeve, kod mene kažu misirače. To su bile ove semenke od bundeve koje smo kuvali pa dobivali ulje samo da bi se imalo čime jelo zapržiti. Drugo nema. Nije bilo. Sve te četiri godine, osim već …Malo bolje smo se prehranjivali tek krajem 1944. na 1945. Tu se približavalo i oslobođenje. Počeli smo malo više da obrađujemo zemlju, ali nismo imali stoke. Taj moj kraj, to je sve bilo uništeno, sve je bilo popljačkano.To su sve ustaše posle one ofanzive, oni su to sve pokupili.Znam moja majka je nekako iznasla i godine 1945, u proleće, imala je par stotina kila kukuruza, koje je sama motikom zakopavala pa je za to jednu kravicu kupila, i to od ljudi koji su živeli gore iznad Prijedora, od Sanskog Mosta,Ključa i Mrkonjić Grada. Jer oni tamo nisu imali takva ratna dejstva kao kod nas dole…Tako je kupila jednu malu kravicu i imali smo prvo mleko od životinje koju smo mi držali tek u proleće 1945.godine.Posle oslobađanja zemlje od nemačke okupacije, kako kažu, krenulo se u nove pobede. S obzirom da sam već devet godina imao 1945.godine, tad sam pošao i u školu. Nažalost, u mom selu nije bilo škole jer su tu bila ratna dejstva.
Godine 1944/45. organizovani su neki tečajevi za malo stariju decu, al to je bilo po nekim privatnim kućama. Tu smo opet imali bježakanja, ako naiđu…Kod mene su tamo nailazili Čerkezi. Jedne prilike… Imali smo zemunice. Sve vreme smo morali imati po dve-tri zemunice da se krijemo. Svaka je porodica znala za svoja skrovišta, ali nije znala za zemunice drugih porodica, iako su to bili rođaci, snahe i jetrve, i ovo i ono. Nije smela jedna porodica da zna gde druga ima zemunicu – svako je to krio za sebe. I, jedne prilike, kad su Čerkezi naišli, mi smo imali jednu zemunicu u šumi. Al, napravile su je tako majka i tetka i maćeha moje majke (ona je bila u partizanima), a baš su napravile jednu zemunicu ovako pored puteljka u šumi, ali je bila maskirana šušnjem, tako da nije to bilo primetno.Znalo se da će naići Čerkezi kroz selo i mi smo se sklonili., I baš su prošli na konjima, oni su imali konje, velike te vrane konje.Prošli su pored zemunice dalje prerma Kozari.
Drugo, još sam zaboravio da kažem: prilikom sprovođenja za Jasenovac sa Kozare, bili su vrlo grubi prema nama. Nisu nam dali…To je bio juni-juli mesec, žega je bila jaka, žeđ,žeđni smo bili . Nisu nam dali da skrenemo negde da uzmemo vode ili hrane. I toga se sećam, išli smo jednim putem gde je bilo puno živice, bilo je zaklonjeno, pa su stope od krupne stoke bile natopljene od kiše, nije isparilo pa je voda bila sakrivena tim živicama. Od mog daljeg rođaka, moja rođaka, ona je imala dete od šest meseci i dvoje starijih – jednoje bio moj vršnjak, malo stariji od mene i kćer. Ona je izišla iz kolone da zagrabi vodu iz te baruštine, iz te stope od stoke. I ustaša je udari kundakom u glavu – na mestu je ostala mrtva. I tu je ostala. I ništa: ide se dalje. Starija ćerka je od majke prihvatila ovo dete koje je imalo oko šest meseci. I ona ga je nosila do Jasenovca. I ono je odvojeno od njih u Jasenovcu i nikada nije pronađeno. Imalo je samo šest meseci i pitanje je da li je preživlo onaj transport, one vagone, one zaraze do Siska.U Sisku je bio dečji logor, pa onda dalje – Crveni križ i Zagreb.
– Da li se sećate iz Jasenovca… da je neko tu pred vašim očima bio ubijen ili mučen?
Jeste, jeste. Ali vidite , majka mi je jednom prilikom…Ustaša je uzeo nož da zakolje jednog čoveka, ali majka mi je stavila svoju ruku na oči da ja to ne vidim. Tog se slučaja sećam. Tog se slučaja sećam, kada mi je nabila ruku na oči da ja to ne vidim.
– Kad je došlo oslobođenje, kad ste vi već krenuli u školu, sećate li se da li je bilo traganja za pravdom – ko je koga ubio i ko je koga opljačkao. Da li se sećate nečeg takvog?
Ja se toga ništa ne sećam, jer mi je bilo dosta četiri godine muke, tako da nikome nije padalo na pamaet da o tome priča čak … Ja sam zaboravio, ja nisam čak ni pitao majku ni kako su se zvali ti ljudi kod kojih smo bili u Banovoj Jarugi. Ništa se to nije pitalo, kao da ništa nije ni bilo. Jer, krenulo se na…To je bio jedan prelom, ja bih rekao, nagli prelom, kao kad bi se naglo povukli oblaci i sunce zasijalo.E, onda se zaboravlja ratno doba. A nastao je novi život gde, iako smo bili bez obuće i odeće, ali- bili smo veseli.
Drugo, još bih mogao da dodam, za vreme rata, bilo je dosta bombardovanja, da li od savznika i bacanja njihovih bombi, ili od Nemaca. I majke su.. Sad, najteže je bilo snaći se za so…I one su putovale po dva-tri dana, a nisu smele na…Od mog sela do Dubice bilo je nekih 15 kilometara, od mog sela do Prijedora oko 20 kilometara. Ali, s obzirom na to da je u Dubici bio veoma jak ustaški garnizon, one su išle u Prijedor, jednim delom kroz Kozaru do sela Palančišta, koje se spušta u samo predgrađa Prijedora. Tu su verovatno mogle da uđu nesmetano da bi kupile koju kilu soli u Prijedoru. I one su na putu tri dana. Mi deca ostali smo sami kod kuće. I sad, nailaze avioni…Toga se isto sećam dobro… Mi, deca ostali kod kuće i nailaze avioni, a mi se delimo ko će se sakriti u kom ćošku, ako poginemo da se naša krv pomeša. E, toga se sećam vrlo dobro, kao da je juče bilo: onih dvoje-troje u taj ćošak, drugih dvoje-troje u drugi ćošak i tamo legnu zajedno da, ako poginu, da im se krv pomeša. Interesantno je da je nama deci to dolazilo u glavu …Nismo se znači mogo plašili da…Jedino, mnogo smo se noža plašili. Taj strah je uglavnom došao od starijih, stariji su govorili da je nož najgori.Najgori je bio nož. A ovako, da nas ubije neko, to, to je bila svetinja. Ali, samo nož je bio naj…
– Vama su najstrašnija iskustva kroz ceo taj ratni period bili glad i strah?
Glad, glad. A glad je bila jer se nije imalo gde, nije se moglo. I Prijedor i Dubica su bili zauzeti stranom vojskom. E, sad, u gradu, nešto je dolazilo više. Ali, mi, tamo po selima, tamo je bilo bježakanje.I ono preživljavanje jadno i bedno.
– Je li neko umro od gladi?
Umrla mi je sestra. Ona je bila mlađa od mene godinu i po dana. Samog onog dana kad smo pošli , ona je umrla majki na rukama.Kako je sahranjena, e , toga ne mogu da se setim.
– Znači li to da ste bili gladni i kod tih gazda kod kojih ste bili….?
Ne, ne, ne, u logoru. U logoru.
– U logoru?
U logoru. Bila je mlađa od mene godinu i po dana. Sećam se da je bila toliko slaba da su joj se kosti videle. Tako da sam samo ja ostao. A jednom prilikom, tamo u Slavoniji, naišli su Nemci. Video je jedan da sam iscrpljen, to je ono kad smo iz logora izašli, to je bilo na izmaku snaga, imao sam dizenteriju, i on mi je dao dve-tri tablete da ja popijem i – da l sam ja to uvrtio u glavu ili sam stvarno zapamtio, tablete su bile boje kafe.
– E sad je jako zanimljiv ovaj trenutak da kada dolazi sloboda ljudi ne žele da se sete, ne žele da pamte…
To je interesantan prelom…prelom taj takav je bio kao da se maltene ništa nije desilo…al toliko je to, ja mislim, ljudima bilo zlo to, da su želeli prosto i da je to naišlo možda i bez uticaja njihove volje, da to zaboravljaju.
– Mislite li da je bilo neophodno da se sve to zaboravi da bi se živelo dalje?
Pa, ne, kretalo se u jedan novi život, potpuno novi život. Jer sloboda, to je bilo nešto najvrednije, vrednije od, čini mi se…I ono glad je glad, ali ako makar nešto nađete da stavite u usta – dobro je. Ali sloboda! Sloboda – za mene je to bilo…! Samo se pričalo o tome kad će sloboda, kad ćemo se osloboditi.Kad je došao taj dan, međutim, onda se krenulo sa pesmom na usnama. Verovali vi ili ne, ali ja sam kao dete od osam devet godine 1944.godine išao, kad su organizovali pionirske organizacije da idu da beru jagode i trešnje za ranjenike u bolnicama.Tako da je nekako već krenulo to pred sam završetak rata, osećala se ta sloboda, popustila je ta tenzija straha, opadala je.A već 1945.godine, to se već znalo kako je to bilo kad se kaže: Kraj rata je. Kapitulirala je Nemačka! Ja nisam znao šta to znači, ali sam osećao po emocijama ljudi, majke, tetke, i ostalih ljudi.
English rendition of the interview, paraphrased and abridged:
My name is Slavko Milanović. I was born in 1936 in the village of Međuvođe in Knežpolje, Municipality of Kozarska Dubica, Bosnia and Herzegovina. The village lies on the northwest slopes of Mount Kozara.
I come from a poor peasant family. I had a younger sister who was about a year and a half younger. At the time of the capitulation of Yugoslavia my father was in the army. Afterwards he returned home from Boka Kotorska, Montenegro…
A few things from my war-torn childhood I remember very well. Some things I can’t recall clearly, while others I don’t remember at all. I remember one day I saw a group of people not wearing military uniforms, but they were carrying anything from hay forks to hunting rifles. They were walking across the hill in the direction of Dubica to a village called Agejci, and a hill called Kruškovac. They were waiting in ambush for the Germans and Ustashas on the Dubica – Prijedor road.
I asked my mother, “Why is this last man carrying a scythe, what will he do with it?” My mother said that they were going into battle, but as he had no rifle, he had to use what he had. This is the one detail from the start of the war in 1942 that has really been imprinted in my memory.
In any case, the Germans managed to advance from Dubica to Prijedor a few times. I remember one day in early February. The winter was sharp with a lot of snow. A unit of People’s Liberation Army was still located in Mount Kozara at the time, just outside our village. The Germans had come into the village and fought against the Partisans.
We had a small house. This happened before the village was set on fire. My father’s uncle had a house that was a bit larger and in the same yard. They put my mother, my sister, and me into my uncle’s house while they used ours to plan military strategies for Kozara invasion. They opened a window, placed the machineguns on it, and were firing at the Partisans all day long. When the battle died down, my mother took her two small children and we returned to our home. I saw one German soldier leaning his rifle against the fence of a place where the cattle food was held, and he was shooting. He fired a single shot to the southwest, but we did not know whom or what he was targeting. The next morning we learned that he had wounded my uncle’s father.
When the battle started he made his way up Mount Kozara, and when it died down he ran back to his home. While he was running he found himself in open space, which consisted of a swamp, a spring called Nečajnica, and the valley. When he reached the valley, a German soldier spotted him, but only hit him in the leg, as the valley was over 900 m away from where the soldier was standing.
Even the very first day of the war in our village is remembered by lawless murders and bloodshed. Men older than 14 or 15 had to run away. It was known that the Germans were advancing so the men ran away into the nearby forest and later to Mount Kozara. But one of my father’s uncles, he was not too old at the time, perhaps a little over 50, together with one of my other uncles decided not to go. They both waited in their homes.
When the Germans came they were taken hostage and ordered not to leave. When the battle was finished the Germans made their way back down the Dubica-Prijedor road, where the gendarmerie station in the village of Knežica was located. My relatives were tricked and ordered to go with them. One was instructed to take his own two oxen with him, while the other was told to take his horse. We did not know where they were supposed to be taken. It was early in the evening when they left, but the next day we learned that they were killed. It was interesting that the oxen returned at night. The news came from Knežica that some men were killed in the village and that people had to come identify their relatives. My father’s uncle was terribly mutilated. His hands and ears were cut off, his eyes gouged out, his nose…everything.
Did you go to see him?
No, I did not.
So, your mother told you about it?
Yes, my mother told me this, I was a child. She told me later. I remember very well the shooting of that day. I remembered that winter day, when the snow was high, it was very cold, but the sun was shining and the sky was clear.
Did your mother say who killed him?
No. His wife and his daughter lived long after the war, he was my father’s uncle, but it is still unknown who killed him. There was only the assumption that the Ustashas did it, and not those wearing uniforms, but their auxiliaries.
Paramilitary groups?
Whether they were Ustashas or Muslims we didn’t know. But we all remember this first massacre in early February 1942.
Massacre in Knežica?
Yes, this was the place where they were killed and found next day. It was on the 16th kilometer of the Dubica-Prijedor road. It was 8 kilometers away from our houses. I remember that day for the military intervention that preceded the Mount Kozara invasion. Then, there were rumors about what was to be done, what will happen next, about the invasion. I knew nothing about it. After the war, I read books, especially those written by Dragoje Lukić, and it all started to make more sense. But what I do remember is the time when the preparations for the retreat were being completed, those 2 or 3 days before we ran away into the Kozara forests.
Night after night, the men with oxen and horse carts were carrying their stuff and running away into the forest. I asked my mother why people were doing this, and she said we should run away from the Ustashas and the Germans and seek refuge in the forests. It was all organized, and the residents of each village knew when, how, and where they would take refuge. We were among the last people who went into the forests as we were very close to them anyway. As a child, I looked forward to this departure because I did not know what it really meant.
My grandpa on my mother’s side came and told his younger and unmarried daughter at the time named Persa to go with my mother for there were two of us children, and we needed to be looked after, to be carried. We put some things into a sac, took the cow for milk and flour for bread making into the forest to a sheppard’s hut. It wasn’t even a hut made of logs but a temporary place made of fir branches, just so there is some protection from the rain, but it was leaking anyway. When we arrived there, I remember it was already decided where the people from each village would be placed. Partisans gave us some food every once in a while when they had some left over. We had milk everyday because we brought our cow, but it was very hard to get the flour. We had it in the village but we could not go there. So we drank the milk, ate ljutikovina, or wild onion leaves that we found in the forests, beech, and hornbeam leaves. I used to lick honeydew after the rain. This is what I remember from those days.
The enemy lines were broken on July 3 and 4, 1942, as I later learned in school. I remember nothing of the first breakthrough except the shootings, which had been there for the past year or so anyway. The second breakthrough, or its unsuccessful attempt on July 4 and 5, I remember by a terrible bombing from the German planes called Junkers (German: Sturzkampfflugzeug). As morning dawned, the Partisans were no longer resisting the attacks, most of them having been killed already. A few somehow managed to escape, while a small number of the soldiers withdrew into the forest and later tried to save themselves by separating into smaller groups. The Ustasha and the Home Guard troops captured us. The Germans bombed the refuge camps. I remember the moment when a bomb fell down near me. There was also a big beech tree that toppled, with its gigantic roots and plenty of dirt. We ran to find shelter behind it. One man was wounded. He was standing beside me, and I saw the blood pouring from his arm like from a slaughtered rooster’s neck. I attempted to approach him, but at that moment we saw the planes coming and my mother pulled me and hid me under the tree roots.
After the Ustashas rounded us up, they took us to a clearing in the forest. They immediately installed a barbed wire so we could not get away. The same afternoon they lined us up and we were headed for Jasenovac. When we arrived at the camp, they cramped us all together like in a beehive. Early in the morning, the Ustashas separated the small children from their mothers. My mother and a few other women that were near, her sisters-in-law actually, hid us under rags. I called them rags because they were not real blankets or quilts, but just pieces of cloth on which we slept and which we used to cover ourselves. So, my mother covered my sister and me every morning and we knew we must remain quiet. We were able to be soundless and calm until the Ustashas would pass. We did so day after day, and managed to stay together with our mother. We were not the only ones. Several other mothers figured out the ways to hide their children.
As far as the food went, I remember that they cooked beans only once, just in water, and only those who had their own dishes would get the meal. Other types of food were rare. Luckily, my aunt was a girl prepared for marriage, and she could handcraft all sorts of things. I remember that she had a beautifully embroidered bed cover that was very expensive. The Ustashas allowed Croatian women to approach the barbed wire and show slices of wheat or corn bread and then wait to see which of our women would offer better bed covers or some other craftworks. My aunt swapped her embroidered bed cover for a half of not so big loaf of bread. My mother gave a little to my sister and me and saved the rest for tomorrow and the day after. I also remember another situation. She saved a little bit of flour in her bag, but she did not have the means to cook or bake anything. She used to put a small amount of flour on my palm, and if she could, she would add a little salt to it. I used to lick it and drink a lot of water afterwards. This helped me survive both those days, and those years.
Later, the camp command announced that the Croatian families whose male members were in the army, either with the Ustashas or Home Guard, needed a labor force, so the Ustashas selected a group of people that would go toward Novska. Then they opened the gate and told us to which villages we were assigned to go.
My family came to the village of Banova Jaruga to the home of the people whose two sons were serving in the Home Guard. My mother and aunt were able to work, so they held farming jobs. They went to work early in the morning only on a slice of bread and bacon. They would stay in the field all day and return home in the evening. Usually, I did not see my mother for several days in a row as I was still sleeping when she was leaving for work and was in bed long before she came home. We traveled at night and hid in the forests during the day so that no one would find us.
I remember one day in late October or early November, the local National Liberation Board put it all together. A notice came out that my mother and aunt were not going to work there any longer, so they transferred us on boats across the Sava River upstream from Sisak and Psunja, where we crossed the river and continued on foot. We were able to cross the Una River, as it was much smaller than the Sava, somewhere between Kostajnica and Novi Grad. We took the longer road to avoid Dubica because of a strong Ustasha garrison that was located there. Lastly, we made it to the village from which I was. It was burned to the ground. Only a few small houses were left. My house was set on fire but was not burned down. It was made of wood and mud mortar, and covered with wooden tiles. There were traces of fire on the furniture and in the attic, and there were no windows or doors. During the summer invasion the Germans and the Ustashas used them for their dugouts and trenches.
We found them all and brought them back from the trenches they left behind. We did not find any of our cattle. Only our female dog was home. She was loyal and stayed at the house all alone. We were not there during the winter of 1942/43, so everything had overgrown with weeds, and we could not find a single cow, pig, hen, or anything. There was no wheat. There were no other houses. Two families could be found living together, women with children usually. The men were either killed in concentration camps or were being held as prisoners of war. Some were also active Partisans. There were only women and children in the village. We slept in a small house, in the basement of it actually, because it was like a hideout. We fed ourselves in a way similar to the prehistoric era. We wanted to collect wild fruit but because we came back in late fall there were none around. We only had late kinds of apples and pears in our orchards. We only found some scarce corn stalks hidden in thorns of blackberry bushes. We survived thanks to the help from the local People’s Liberation Board, which provided us with corn flour from time to time. There was no fat or cooking oil in our first year there. So we made the oil from pumpkin seeds in a very primitive way just to make our meals a bit richer. We lived like this for almost four years of the war. The situation was a little more bearable towards late 1944 and early 1945 when the liberation was approaching and we had started to cultivate the land again. But we still had no cattle. The whole place was robbed and destroyed. All the animals were taken away. I remember that my mother saved up a few hundred kilos of corn in the spring of 1945, and sold it so she was able to buy a small cow from the people living in the area that had not suffered so much destruction. Such areas were near Sanski Most and Mrkonjić Grad. Our own cow gave us milk only in the spring of 1945. After the liberation of our country and the capitulation of Germany, we were on a path to ‘new victories’.
When I was nine years old I started school, which was in the fall of 1945. Unfortunately, there was no proper school in my village due to the war, so in late 1944 courses for older children were put together and held in people’s houses. We were often forced to run and hide because there were still some enemy military actions around. For example, there were still Circassian incursions. We always had to have dugouts to hide. Every family knew where their dugouts were, but were not aware of the whereabouts of those that belonged to other people, even close relatives. This was the rule. My family had one of its dugouts in the forest. My mother, aunt, and her stepmother, who used to be with the Partisans, made it. It was made near the forest path and concealed with ferns. Knowing that the Circassians were coming, we ran away and hid inside it. We were able to see them while they were passing our dugout, riding their horses towards Mount Kozara.
I forgot to tell you that while we were being escorted from Kozara to Jasenovac by the Ustashas, they were very cruel to us. It was July, the midst of the summer heat. Thirst tortured us. We were not allowed to stop on the way to grab some water or food. What I remember very well was this one time when we were walking down this path aligned by bushes. Through the shadow of the bushes we were able to see cattle huff prints and water that was left in them after the rain. There was a woman, a relative. She brought over a baby, six months old, and two older children, a girl and a boy of about my age. She stepped out of the group that was headed for Jasenovac with a mug in her hand, and tried to take the water from one of those puddles that remained in cattle huff print. An Ustasha struck her on the head with a gunstock and she died on the spot. The group continued on as if nothing had happened. Her daughter took the baby from her mother’s hands and we went on. Later in Jasenovac they took the baby away. Its family never saw it again. I wonder whether the baby survived the transport in cattle wagons to Sisak, where the concentration camp for children was located.
Do you remember someone being tortured or killed in Jasenovac in front of your eyes?
I only remember one instance when an Ustasha swung his knife to kill a prisoner, but my mother quickly covered my eyes with her hand so I could not see it. That’s what I remember.
When the country was liberated and the reconstruction started, when you started to go to school again, were there any quests for justice, any attempts to find the killers, looters…?
I don’t remember anything like that because I was tired from all the suffering and distress of the past four years. No one even wanted to talk about the past. I did not even ask my mother for the names of people we stayed with after the concentration camp. It was like a sun reappearing after the storm. War years had fallen into oblivion, and a happy life began. We still lived without shoes or bred, but we were happy.
I’d like to add that during the war there were a lot of bombings. The allies bombed us, too. At that time it was very difficult to obtain the salt. Our mothers would travel for two or three days searching for it. They did not dare go to Dubica that was 15 km away from our village because that’s where an Ustasha garrison was located. So they went to Prijedor instead that was 20 or more kilometers away. They traveled across Mount Kozara to avoid Dubica and to approach Prijedor through the village called Palančište. They tried to enter the town unnoticed and buy a few kilos of salt. Such travelling usually took three days and we stayed home alone. On one such day some planes appeared. We did not know what to do. We hid inside the home, but separated into groups of two or three in a corner so, as we thought then, our blood could be mixed if the bombs killed us. I remember this as if it were yesterday. We wanted our blood to be combined if we died. How could a child have such ideas? Can you imagine? We were not that afraid of the planes or bombs. We really only feared a knife because we heard the older people talking that a death by knife was the most horrible. To be killed in an ordinary way, by a bullet, was considered a blessing.
Does that mean that hunger was your worst experience, hunger and fear?
Yes. It was hunger, hunger, and hunger. There was a famine because Prijedor and Dubica were occupied by the enemy troops, and so were the villages to which we were running away.
Did anyone die of hunger?
Yes, my younger sister died of hunger. She was a year and a half younger than me. She died the same day we left the concentration camp. She died in my mother’s hands. I don’t remember whether she was buried or how.
Does that mean you were hungry while you were staying with a family that your mother worked for?
No, no. My sister died the same day we left the concentration camp. She suffered in the camp. I remember she was so skinny that all her bones were visible through the skin. How did I survive? This one time, when I was almost on my last legs, German soldiers suddenly showed up. We were on our way from the camp to the village where we stayed later. One German soldier noticed that I was exhausted and gave me 2 or 3 pills. I think I remember them being brown, like coffee.
There is a very interesting moment in your story that once they regained their freedom, people started forgetting, they did not want to remember.
We were broken, and reached a critical point. It was like nothing that ever happened before. People lived through so much harm that they needed to forget, and as a result just effortlessly came to oblivion.
Do you think that it was necessary for you to forget if you wanted go on with your life?
Well, we had started to live a new life, a completely new life. Our liberty was something most valuable. When we were starving, we only talked about being liberated, and wondered when it would happen. Once it happened, we greeted our new lives with a song on our lips. Believe it or not, even in 1944, as a member of a Pioneer organization, I picked berries and cherries for the wounded Partisans. We sensed that our liberation was close. Tension decreased and the pressure of fear weakened. In 1945, it became clear that the war would end and that Germany would capitulate. I did not know it for sure, but I was able to sense it through the emotions of other people close to me, such as my mother, aunt, and so on. My whole region was strongly committed to the People’s Liberation Struggle. My mother was originally a member of a local board, and her first cousin was the president. Later on, she became the president of a local Women’s Antifascist Front.