The Croats in Bosnia had assembled almost 20.000 troops, which was about half their army, to make a decisive attack against the positions of the Bosnian army. My unit was right in the middle. Preparations had already started days before the attack. Nobody told us that there would be an attack, but this wasn’t necessary, we saw the signs everywhere.
At first a reconnaissance unit from Croatia came to our base and started to observe the territory with some big binoculars. The next day some high ranking officers arrived and were discussing their plans over maps and aerial fotos.
Two days before day zero a mortar unit set up a dozen of 82 mm mortars in our backyard. And finally, when there was only one day to go, a complete mechanized infantry brigade from Croatia arrived. As my unit was our brigade’s intervention unit, the freshly arrived Croats sent their intervention unit to join us. We would attack together with them.
It was all very busy and crowded at our camp during these days. People coming and going. Trucks bringing ammunitions and weapons.
Finally all preparations came to an end and the support and logistics troops left us in the afternoon. Dusk settled in and everybody knew that the next morning would be the day. Some alcohol was served and we were reminded not to drink too much of it. One of my comrades didn’t listen and passed out somewhere. Another one started vomiting, not from the alcohol, but from stress and anxiety.
Most soldiers were busy preparing their gear, cleaning their rifles and getting ammo for their guns.
Around midnight a blue cotton ribbon was given to each soldier. We were told to put them on our uniforms to easily recognize each other as friendly troops. This was necessary as our enemy had very similar uniforms to ours.
After midnight an eerie quiet settled in. All weapons were cleaned, checked and double checked. Everybody was prepared and there was nothing left to do then wait. You can clean your weapon only that many times and puke your guts out only once.
In these last moments most soldiers preferred not to talk to each other, but to stay for themselves. I saw some of them praying. Others tried to sleep, but most of us were just laying down on our flak jackets, staring holes into the night sky and smoking one cigarette after another.
This moment reminded me of all the soldiers and armies in history who found themselves in the same situation. From ancient Germanic tribes , the French in Dien Bien Phu to our own enemy who was just a couple of hundred meters away. They must have felt the same thing. Being part of a big army going into combat you feel big and tiny at the same time. Fate is out of your hands and you can just hope and pray that tomorrow at the same time you will still be alive. You look around and watch your comrades. To see how they cope and to remember their faces. Some of them won’t come back.
My squad leader interrupted my thinking. We were called to pick up our gear and to advance to our starting positions. As our base was practically in the center of the attack, we just had to sit there and watch the other units to leave, wondering what will happen to them.
Then came our turn. We walked a few meters to our trenches to await the final signal for the attack from there. It was now absolutely quiet and dark. No talk, no cigarettes. Everybody’s eyes were directed towards enemy territory.
Then a small “blop” sound behind us, seconds later a sound over our heads, like a gush of wind or a swarm of wild geese flying over us and finally a big explosion in front of us, right in the middle of the enemy’s positions.
The waiting was over and the game was on…
What happened next?
We left the trench in small groups of five or six soldiers. I was the last soldier to get out. This was my first “big” battle and I decided to take it slowly. We were walking in single file, because the first soldier had to keep us clear of the mines. We had mined the whole area around our base just a couple of weeks before and although nobody had made any maps that could show us where the mines were, the guy we had put to walk in front had a good memory and knew which places to avoid.
Our own artillery now started a massive barrage. As we advanced so did our artillery fire, constantly hitting targets about two or three hundred meters in front of us.
After about two hundred meters we came to the first buildings of an enemy village. There was nobody there. We had expected some resistance, but not a single shot was fired at us. There were not even the unavoidable dogs around to bark at us. The village was totally dead, so we thought. We slowly passed through it and nothing happened.
Behind the village were several railroad tracks. We were about to enter a big industrial area. In the upcoming light of dawn I could make out warehouses, an oil refinery with several huge oil storage tanks and a lot of smaller buildings, like pump stations and office buildings. There were plenty of railroad tracks going in every direction and on them were dozens of railroad wagons of all kinds.
While we navigated ourselves towards the oil refinery a bullet zipped over our heads. Used to getting shot at we continued our way without even looking up. After a minute a second bullet hit a nearby railway wagon. The more we approached the refinery the more shots were fired at us. They seemed to come from all directions, even from the village that we had left behind. Every time a bullet hit a railway car it was ricocheting from the metal surface with a nasty "pling" sound. From somewhere somebody with a megaphone started yelling : Allah u Akhbar! "
We ran the last meters to the refinery. The bullets were now raining at us. We hunkered down in a trench near a giant oil storage tank which luckily seemed to be empty. Every time a bullet hit this storage tank it made a resonating sound like a drum. Soon it was like a thousand drums were playing all at once.
Now the first enemy grenades were hitting nearby. Mortar and RPG grenades, which could be fired only from a close distance. Although by now we had complete daylight, we still couldn't figure out from where the enemy was shooting at us. We encountered another small group from our unit nearby. They had made out an enemy position at the far end of the refinery and decided to attack it. I saw one of the guys fixing his bayonet to his AK rifle. Then they disappeared. We also decided to move, but in another direction, towards a big warehouse building next to the refinery.
The building was half empty and we used its cover to take a break from the bullets and grenades, smoke a cigarette and wait for orders coming over the radio. This was a warehouse from a tea factory: There were thousands of teabags everywhere around us: Chamomile tea. The smell of it became soon intolerable.
By listening to the radio communication we got a clearer image about what was going on : Obviously there were still enemy troops in the village we had marched through earlier on. They either hadn't seen us when we sneaked through or they had decided to let us pass. Either way, the enemy was now between us and our base. They were in well camouflaged positions and we were an easy target for them. Furthermore, the group of soldiers we had encountered earlier on near the refinery was now in serious trouble and had suffered its first casualties.
We were ordered to retreat. Now we just had to find a way back. We decided to try our luck by following the railway line in one direction to get around the enemy village and then to cut through open ground and reach our own lines. This was easier said than done: We left the warehouse on the opposite side from where we've entered it and met two more groups of our unit. It seemed that by retreating from the enemy’s fire most of our unit had ended up right in this spot. We all took cover in a long trench which ran along the side of the building.
Now snipers were starting to aim at us while mortar and RPG grenades were hitting the trench. It was clear that if we would stay there any longer we would all be doomed.
The only way out was a small road, but there was absolutely no cover for at least 400 meters. We started to leave the trench in small groups of 2 or 3 while the remaining soldiers shot cover fire.
I was in the last group to leave. When I jumped out of the trench I ran over the first dead body just a couple of feet away. I ran maybe 10 meters before I fell to the ground and started crawling. There were bullets everywhere. A friend of mine crawled just in front of me and I saw how some tracer bullets were hitting the tarmac just inches away from him. Another soldier behind me got hit in the leg and started screaming.
We managed to crawl down the road until we were stopped by a big wire fence. It was too high to climb over it: All the soldiers who escaped the trench were piled up in front of this fence and were attracting enemy fire.
Finally we managed to cut through the wire of the fence by connecting an AK bayonet with its scabbard. This makes a perfect wire cutter. On the other side of the fence we continued crawling.
About 100 meters further down the road I reached the first of our own defense positions. I entered a small bunker, its floor was covered in blood. A wounded Croatian soldier was getting first aid there.
Meanwhile a Croatian T-55 tank was approaching to cover our retreat. Under its protection we started to evacuate some of the wounded soldiers along the road.
In the evening we took count: From 18 soldiers of our platoon six were killed during that day. Another two were missing. The next day we learned that they also got killed. The guy that I saw planting his bayonet on his AK was also dead. Another comrade was heavily injured by a head shot and died later in a hospital. Three days later two more soldiers of our platoon were killed when their car was hit by a mortar grenade.
The following week we buried our dead comrades. During one of the funerals we came under heavy artillery fire, but luckily nobody died.
And I don’t drink Chamomile tea anymore.
Remark: This post is written from the content of two of my answers (one in the beginning: Roland Bartetzko's answer to What's the mood of an army field camp the night before combat? and one at the end: Roland Bartetzko's answer to What is the most terrible experience you had to face during your time in military? ) while the middle part is new. Fellow quorans who read Roland Bartetzko's answer to What's the mood of an army field camp the night before combat? asked me about what happened next, so this is the answer.
