Croatia is a nation with deep historical roots, tracing its origins to the people known as the Croats (Hrvati, historically referred to as Chrobatos).

This remarkable country is considered, according to a longstanding local tradition, to be the birthplace of the explorer Marco Polo, possibly on the island of Korčula, although his exact birthplace remains a subject of debate. Saint Jerome is also associated by some historians with present-day northern Croatia, although the precise location of his birthplace, Stridon, remains uncertain.

The Apostle Paul of Tarsus has been venerated on the island of Mljet for centuries because of the tradition that he was shipwrecked there. Malta, however, is also traditionally identified as the location of this biblical event.

The city of Split still bears the marks of the Christian persecutions under Emperor Diocletian. During the Great Persecution of Christians in the early fourth century, torture and executions of early Christians took place in and around his palace and in nearby Salona. Among the best-known martyrs were Saint Domnius of Salona — better known as Sveti Duje and today the patron saint of Split — as well as Saint Anastasius of Salona, the priest Asterius of Salona, and Saint Septimius of Salona, who, according to tradition, were executed for their Christian faith.

The ruins of Salona, once the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia, remain one of the most important early Christian archaeological sites along the Adriatic coast. Croatia also possesses an exceptional wealth of historic churches, monasteries, inscriptions, and monuments dating back to the ninth century AD.

The Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw was deeply impressed by Croatia's Adriatic coast. He is often credited with the famous remark that anyone wishing to see paradise on Earth should go to Dubrovnik. Although the exact wording may have been popularised later, Shaw's admiration for the region's natural beauty and culture during his travels through Dalmatia is well established. Throughout the centuries, many other artists, writers, and travellers have also drawn inspiration from the distinctive atmosphere of Dalmatia.

The Roman statesman and scholar Cassiodorus wrote admiringly of Istria in the sixth century, when the region formed part of the Ostrogothic Kingdom. In his official letters, he praised its fertility, prosperity, and strategic importance. He later founded the monastery of Vivarium in southern Italy, where classical texts were carefully copied and preserved, making an important contribution to the survival of ancient knowledge in Europe.

Dante Alighieri also referred to the eastern Adriatic coast in his work. In The Divine Comedy, he explicitly mentions Dalmatia, including in passages concerning the Adriatic Sea and the political world of his time. Jules Verne's adventure novel Mathias Sandorf is set partly along the Adriatic coast and in Dalmatia. Verne portrayed the region with evident enthusiasm, using the islands, harbours, and coastal cities of what was then the Austro-Hungarian Empire as the backdrop for his story.

The Croatian language (hrvatski) and the Glagolitic script have a history spanning more than 900 years. Croatian belongs to the South Slavic branch of the Slavic language family. It was first recorded in writing using the Glagolitic script, a unique alphabet developed around AD 863 by the holy brothers Saints Cyril and Methodius.

Croatia was the only country where the Glagolitic script remained in active use for centuries, particularly in religious texts and stone inscriptions, such as the famous Baška Tablet, dating from around AD 1100. The Glagolitic script is therefore a rare symbol of Croatian identity, spirituality, and linguistic independence.

The necktie originated among Croatian soldiers in the seventeenth century, who wore a piece of cloth tied around their necks. Faust Vrančić designed an early parachute, long before people actually began jumping with such devices. In addition to his technical achievements, he was a diplomat, bishop, and author of a multilingual dictionary, Dictionarium quinque linguarum, which brought together Latin, Italian, German, Dalmatian, and Hungarian.

His broad knowledge and creative mind made him one of the most versatile thinkers of the Renaissance. Slavoljub Penkala improved the fountain pen, a writing instrument that can be refilled. Andrija Mohorovičić discovered a major boundary within the Earth, separating the crust from the mantle. His work laid the foundations for modern geophysics.

Ruđer Bošković (1711–1787) was a Croatian scientist and intellectual far ahead of his time, whose ideas influenced thinkers such as Faraday and Einstein.

He formulated an early atomic theory, made contributions to astronomy and mathematics, and played a role in diplomacy and engineering. His work helped lay the groundwork for later developments in modern physics. Born in Dubrovnik, then part of the Republic of Ragusa, he travelled throughout Europe and was consulted by popes, kings, and emperors. A lunar crater and Dubrovnik Airport are named after him.

As Aloysius Stepinac, the archbishop who saved lives during the Second World War and was later beatified, once said:

"Love for one's own people must not turn a person into a wild beast that destroys everything and cries out for revenge. Instead, it should enrich that person, teaching them to respect and love their own people, as well as other peoples."

In 1519, Pope Leo X granted Croatia the honorary title Antemurale Christianitatis ("Bulwark of Christianity"). This distinction recognised the country's centuries-long struggle against Ottoman expansion and more than four centuries of conflict with Muslim forces during the era of the Crusades.

The Turkish philosopher Kâtib Çelebi described the Croats in his work Nizam ul Alem ("The Order of the World") as exemplary warriors and heroes who despised cowardice. He advised his Turkish compatriots to learn from the Croats how to wage war in order to achieve victory. What he admired most was the chivalrous spirit of the Croats: according to his account, they would never harm unarmed or captured enemies and would always honour their promises.

One of Croatia's most celebrated heroes is Nikola Šubić Zrinski, also known as the "Croatian Leonidas." With just 400 soldiers, he is said to have saved the city of Pest in 1566 and held out against 100,000 Ottoman soldiers during the Siege of Szigetvár. A lifelong soldier, he fought numerous battles over the course of his 58 years, often against vastly superior forces.

In modern history, a Croat also distinguished himself through extraordinary courage: Louis Cukela (Vjekoslav Lujo Čukela) received both the Navy Medal of Honor and the Army Medal of Honor for acts of exceptional heroism in France in 1918, during the First World War. Following his military service, he continued to serve in the United States Marine Corps until his retirement with the rank of major. He is buried at Arlington National Cemetery, the prestigious resting place of American service members.

He was the only living person to receive both of these distinctions for extraordinary bravery during a single war.

"Croatians are the best soldiers in the world. If only I had 100,000 Croatians, I would conquer the entire world." -  Napoleon Bonaparte

Gregorius van Nin: symbool van taal, verzet en geluk

The tenth-century bishop Gregory of Nin (Grgur Ninski) was a champion of the Croatian language in the Church. At a time when religious services were conducted exclusively in Latin, he advocated the use of the vernacular and the Glagolitic script — a revolutionary step that made the faith more accessible to ordinary people. His stance brought him into conflict with the ecclesiastical hierarchy, but he eventually became a symbol of cultural independence.

His legacy lives on in the imposing statue created by Ivan Meštrović in Split. The statue's gleaming big toe has become world-famous: tourists flock to rub it in the hope of good luck. Over the years, the bronze toe has been polished to a golden sheen — a tangible testament to his enduring appeal.

Diocletian's Palace: A Roman Masterpiece on the Adriatic Sea

Diocletian's Palace is an impressive seaside complex located in present-day Split, Croatia. It was built between AD 295 and 305 as a retirement residence for the Roman emperor Diocletian. The palace combines imperial luxury with military functionality, incorporating temples, a ceremonial courtyard known as the Peristyle, and a fortified military garrison area, all enclosed within imposing walls and towers.

The palace was constructed near Diocletian's birthplace, Salona, and reflects influences from both Roman and Eastern architectural traditions. Approximately half of the complex was reserved for the emperor's private use, while the other half accommodated soldiers and servants.

What makes this monument even more significant is its historical context: under Diocletian, the so-called Great Persecution took place — the last and most severe persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire.

During this period, many Christians were imprisoned, tortured, or executed for their faith. The shadow of this tragic history still seems to linger among the ancient stones of the palace. But Diocletian's Palace is just one of the many tangible reminders of Croatia's rich past. Cities such as Dubrovnik carry centuries of history within their walls.

 The ancient city walls of Dubrovnik, which have completely encircled the city since the thirteenth century, rank among the best-preserved medieval fortifications in the world. Landmarks such as the Rector's Palace, the Franciscan Monastery, and Sponza Palace date back to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Even the paved main street, the Stradun, which has existed in its present form since 1468, tells the story of a city that served for centuries as a centre of trade, culture, and diplomacy.

Today, these monuments form the beating heart of Croatian cities. They are not merely tourist attractions, but living witnesses to a nation that does not simply preserve its history — it lives and breathes it.

The Kings of Croatia

Medieval Croatia experienced a golden age as an independent kingdom between the tenth and eleventh centuries. Its first king was Tomislav I, who is traditionally believed to have been crowned around AD 925 by Pope John X. Under his rule, the kingdom reached the height of its power, exercising control over Croatia, Dalmatia, Slavonia, and parts of Bosnia.

Other important monarchs included Petar Krešimir IV, who strengthened and expanded the kingdom, and Dmitar Zvonimir, who forged close ties with Hungary. Following Zvonimir's death in 1089, the kingdom descended into a crisis that ultimately led to a personal union with Hungary in 1102.

Nevertheless, the memory of these kings lives on in Croatian culture, national symbolism, and pride. Their reigns remain an enduring reminder of Croatia's medieval statehood and its long-standing historical identity.

According to legend, King Dmitar Zvonimir was betrayed and murdered by his own people in the eleventh century — a tragic turning point in Croatian history.

In his powerful song Kletva kralja Zvonimira ("The Curse of King Zvonimir"), Croatian singer Thompson portrays this moment as a symbol of betrayal, lost honour, and the call for national unity.

The lyrics are steeped in emotion and evoke the sacrifices of the past, with lines such as: "Izdajice, ne imali mira, ubili ste kralja Zvonimira" ("Traitors, may you never know peace; you have murdered King Zvonimir").

Ivan Meštrović created several sculptures depicting or symbolising Croatian kings and historical figures. One of the best-known monuments associated with Croatia's royal heritage is the imposing equestrian statue of King Tomislav, traditionally regarded as Croatia's first king. It has stood in King Tomislav Square in Zagreb since 1947. The statue portrays the king on horseback, projecting strength and pride — a national symbol of Croatian independence and identity.

After the Germans and the Russians, the Croatians were the third people in Europe to develop opera. 

One of the best-known Croatian operas is Mila Gojsalića, composed by Jakov Gotovac. The opera tells the heroic story of Mila Gojsalić, a national heroine from the Poljica region who sacrificed herself to protect her people from Ottoman rule. She is often referred to as the "Croatian Joan of Arc."

The opera is filled with dramatic flair, folk influences, and patriotic passion — a wonderful example of how Croatian history and music come together on stage. Gotovac is widely regarded as a key figure in the history of Croatian opera.

The world's fastest electric car comes from Croatia, created by the Croatian automaker Rimac Automobili.

Try Croatia's traditional side dish: easy Croatian Swiss chard! Simple to prepare, rustic, hearty, and super healthy — made with just three basic ingredients!

Of course, there are many other delicious Croatian dishes, but as a vegan, I don't promote them unless they can be made in an animal-friendly, vegan version.

The Ocean Cleanup — a Croatian-Dutch entrepreneur launches a project to clean up the world's oceans.

Soparnik is a traditional dish from Dalmatia, originating in the Poljica region of the hinterland near Omiš. In the past, it was served in local villages as a simple meal made from basic ingredients: Swiss chard, onion, flour, garlic, olive oil, and salt. Today, Soparnik is enjoyed throughout Dalmatia and beyond.

A Home for Generations: Family and Home in Croatia

In Croatia, it is quite common for several generations of a family to live under one roof, often occupying different floors or separate sections of the same house. Parents typically live on the ground floor or in a separate part of the house, while their children and their families often have their own floor or apartment within the property. Shared spaces, such as the kitchen, living room, or garden, may be used together, while everyone also has their own private space.

This way of living is not just a tradition; it is also practical. It makes it easier for family members to care for one another, especially older generations, who can remain close to their children and grandchildren.

"Bog i Hrvati" — "God and the Croats"

"Bog i Hrvati" is a well-known Croatian slogan that literally means "God and the Croats."

The expression combines faith and patriotism, highlighting the connection between Croats, the Catholic faith (although I am not Catholic myself), and their national identity.

Another well-known Croatian expression is "Za dom!", meaning "For the Homeland."

These words have deep roots in Croatian history as an expression of patriotism and sacrifice. Over the centuries, the phrase has appeared in various forms in patriotic poetry, plays, and military contexts. It succinctly conveys loyalty and devotion to the homeland.

One of the earliest known references to the phrase "Za dom" can be found in the work of Pavao Ritter Vitezović, a Croatian writer and historian of the 17th century.

In his accounts of historical events, such as the Siege of Szigetvár in 1566, Nikola Šubić Zrinski, a Croatian nobleman and general, is portrayed as going into battle "za dom" ("for the homeland"). This motif later also appeared in patriotic narratives and plays of the 19th century.

Croatian folk songs and literary works also frequently used "Za dom" as a call to fight or sacrifice oneself for the homeland. In this context, it is comparable to expressions in other languages, such as the Latin "Pro patria" or the English "For King and Country."

Context and Explanation of "Za dom spremni"

The older, broadly patriotic expression "Za dom" has been part of Croatian literature and culture for centuries. Later, the word "spremni" (meaning "ready") was added. This longer expression is historically associated with the controversial Ustaše regime of 1941–1945. As a result, in 2018, the Croatian Council for Dealing with the Consequences of Undemocratic Regimes concluded that the use of this salute was, in principle, incompatible with constitutional values. Nevertheless, its use may be permitted as an exception in specific contexts, such as commemorations of HOS (Croatian Defence Forces) units.

In such circumstances, it is presented as a sign of respect for fallen fighters, often accompanied by military symbolism, historical uniforms, or monuments. For others, however, the salute remains inextricably linked to the troubled history of the 20th century.

Interestingly, the expression itself is claimed to predate 1941 by many years. For example, Croatian children reportedly recited the following version as early as 1921:

Croatian:

Za (rod i) dom spremni (život dati) / mrijeti (u nekim inačicama)

English translation:

Ready for (the people and) the homeland (to give one's life) / to die (in some versions).

Croatian Legionnaires

Ivan Roso (pictured above) is one example of a Croatian who served in the French Foreign Legion. Looking at the number of foreign volunteers, including former legionnaires, who took part in the Croatian War of Independence, one might get the impression that a legionnaire never stops fighting simply because the pay stops.

In memory of Legionnaire Zlatko Sabljic, 29 September 2020: Memorial post.

In memory of Ante Roso, 2025: Memorial post.

General Željko Glasnović was also a legionnaire. He served as a member of the Croatian Parliament and represented the Croatian diaspora. Born in Croatia, General Glasnović spent much of his life in Canada, where he lived and worked.

When the Croatian War of Independence broke out in 1991, he returned to Croatia and joined the Croatian National Guard. His military service included the Canadian Armed Forces, the French Foreign Legion, the Croatian Army (HV), and the Croatian Defence Council (HVO). He took part in several conflicts, including the Gulf War, the Croatian War of Independence, and the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

In November 2015, he was elected to Parliament and was re-elected in September 2016.

He worked for the Canadian government and receives a pension from it, but donates his parliamentary salary to orphaned children.

Bruno Zorica, nicknamed Zulu, was a Croatian war hero and former legionnaire in the French Foreign Legion. He earned great distinction within the Legion, where he served in an elite unit and was awarded the French Croix de la Valeur Militaire (Military Valour Cross) for bravery. During the Croatian War of Independence, he returned to his homeland and became commander of the elite Bojna Frankopan unit.

Zulu is regarded by many Croatian veterans as one of the most respected fighters, even more so than the well-known General Ante Gotovina. He received his nickname while serving in the Legion and carried it throughout his life. He continues to command almost legendary respect within the French Foreign Legion.

Art, Sports & Music

Zlatko Dalić is a former Croatian footballer and the head coach of the Croatian national football team. He is a devout man who always carries a rosary with him and gives thanks to God for all his achievements.

"We didn't play for ourselves. We played for your families, for you, for the Croats in Bosnia and Herzegovina, for the diaspora, and above all for the Croatian defenders of the homeland. Because if it hadn't been for them, we wouldn't be wearing the chequered shirts today" (in other words, Croatia would not exist!).

— Zlatko Dalić, 2018 FIFA World Cup

Luka Modrić won the Golden Ball at the 2018 FIFA World Cup, earning the award for the tournament's best player. He was also named The Best FIFA Men's Player of the Year.

Art and Culture:

Ivan Meštrović — A world-renowned sculptor and architect, known for his monumental works in Croatia and the United States.
Marin Držić — A 16th-century playwright, often compared to Shakespeare in Croatian literature.
Ivo Andrić — Nobel Prize laureate in Literature (1961), born in Travnik, then part of Austria-Hungary.

Sports:

Janica Kostelić — An Olympic skiing icon who won four gold medals, an exceptional achievement for an athlete from a country not traditionally associated with Alpine skiing.
Dražen Petrović — A basketball pioneer in the NBA who died young but remains a national icon.
Goran Ivanišević — A Wimbledon tennis champion who later became a coach to Novak Đoković.
Blanka Vlašić — A world champion in high jump.

Singer Oliver Dragojević received the Order of Danica Hrvatska in 1995, along with several Porin and Indexi music awards. Croatia mourned his death on a massive scale, and a national day of mourning was declared in his honour. Watch footage of his funeral in the video below.

Marko Perković, known as "Thompson," began his career with the wartime song "Bojna Čavoglave" during the Croatian War of Independence. In 1991, he volunteered to join the Croatian National Guard (ZNG), later incorporated into the Croatian Army, to defend his native village of Čavoglave.

The Natural Beauty of Croatia

Croatia is home to one of Europe's most beautiful natural landscapes: Plitvice Lakes National Park. This UNESCO World Heritage Site consists of 16 crystal-clear lakes connected by more than 90 waterfalls. Over centuries, the deposition of travertine (a form of limestone) has created a unique landscape of lakes, caves, and natural dams. The park is also home to rare wildlife, including brown bears, wolves, and Eurasian eagle-owls. It is a true paradise for nature lovers and photographers.

Empress Elisabeth of Austria, better known as Sisi, frequently visited Opatija and Lovran on the Croatian coast. She called the Adriatic Sea her "blue refuge" and wrote poetic letters expressing her love for the landscape and the tranquillity she found there.

In the heart of Dalmatia, the Krka River flows past centuries-old monasteries, lush green forests, and crystal-clear pools. Krka National Park is famous for its seven waterfalls, including the spectacular Skradinski Buk — a broad cascade consisting of 17 steps. Wooden walkways wind through the water, allowing visitors to encounter rare birds and historic watermills. It is a perfect blend of nature and culture, just a short distance from Šibenik.

Dubrovnik served as the setting for King's Landing in Game of Thrones, and parts of Star Wars and Robin Hood were also filmed there. In Robin Hood (2018), Dubrovnik stood in for medieval Nottingham.

The biographical film The Odyssey (2016), about Jacques Cousteau, was also filmed partly along the Adriatic coast.

Croatia's coastline is home to more than a thousand islands, each with its own unique character.

Hvar is bustling with life, boasting a lively harbour, lavender fields, and vibrant nightlife. Mljet, by contrast, is an oasis of tranquillity, with a national park filled with pine forests and saltwater lakes. Korčula, often called "Little Dubrovnik," captivates visitors with its medieval streets and legends surrounding Marco Polo. Vis is mysterious and unspoiled, having once been closed to tourists for military reasons. Brač offers white pebble beaches and the famous Zlatni Rat, while Pag is renowned for its cheese, lace-making tradition, and moonlike landscape.

Each island tells its own story — perfect for island-hopping and experiencing Croatia in all its diversity.

Wildfires in Croatia

Every summer, Croatia faces wildfires, particularly along the Adriatic coast and in the inland areas of Dalmatia. Hot, dry summers and strong bora winds can cause flames to spread rapidly, destroying thousands of hectares of forest and natural landscapes.

These fires threaten not only the environment but also villages, tourist destinations, and infrastructure. Although the fire services are well prepared and international assistance is often provided, fire prevention remains essential.

Climate change and human carelessness make this problem increasingly urgent every year.

Wildlife of Croatia

From the forests of Gorski Kotar to the azure waters of the Adriatic Sea, Croatia is a haven for remarkable wildlife. Shy brown bears and the rare Eurasian lynx roam the mountains, while dolphins can be spotted along the coast.

In nature reserves such as Kopački Rit and Lake Vrana, black storks, ospreys, and colourful bee-eaters breed. The underwater world is equally rich: the Adriatic Sea is home to seahorses, catsharks, and octopuses.

And those who look carefully in dry areas may spot the nose-horned viper, one of Croatia's venomous snakes. Although its bite can be dangerous, it rarely poses a threat to people who keep their distance.

Croatian freediver Vitomir Maričić set a new Guinness World Record on June 14, 2025, by holding his breath for 29 minutes and 3 seconds. Before the attempt, he breathed pure oxygen for 10 minutes, enabling him to stay underwater for almost five minutes longer than the previous record holder. For comparison, the average person can hold their breath for just 30 to 90 seconds, while even elite freedivers rarely manage more than 10 minutes without assistance.

Maričić dedicated his record to ocean conservation and hopes to challenge the oxygen-free breath-holding record of 11 minutes and 35 seconds in the near future.

Source: Guinness World Records (June 14, 2025)

During the war in Croatia, 156 mass graves were discovered, 16,000 people were killed, and 37,000 were wounded. Approximately 10,000 children lost their parents, while between 20,000 and 50,000 women and children were raped. In total, 260,000 Croats were displaced, and 30,000 people died in Serbian Chetnik camps. In addition, 37,000 people were left with permanent war-related disabilities. A total of 122 churches and 14 hospitals were destroyed or severely damaged, while approximately 200,000 buildings were damaged or destroyed. During the siege of Vukovar, 1.5 million shells were fired.

The majority of war crimes have never been brought to justice. Pregnant women were raped or deliberately shot in the abdomen, while men had their legs pierced with electric drills.

The war damage, estimated at €32 billion, has never been compensated.

The evidence of war crimes, human rights violations, and crimes against humanity is overwhelming. Approximately 50,000 women were raped, yet only 15 people have been convicted of wartime rape. The youngest victim was just six years old, while the oldest was 80.

Marija Dosen

Marija Dosen was a mother who lost four children during the war in Vukovar: three sons, all war veterans, and a daughter who was pregnant. Her only wish was to be able to give her three sons a dignified burial before her own death. Sadly, that wish was never fulfilled. She was one of many mothers who suffered in the violence of the war. Her name and the sacrifice of her children will never be forgotten.

Marijan Živković

In 2014, Marijan Živković was sentenced to prison for damaging the bilingual sign in Vukovar. Two of his sons were killed during the Croatian War of Independence. To this day, those responsible for his sons' deaths have not been prosecuted. No one has been charged or found guilty.

Davor Glasnović werd 15 vreselijke maanden vastgehouden in Servische kampen, waarbij zijn oor werd afgesneden terwijl hij ernstig gewond was tijdens zijn gevangenneming, en zijn knie werd doorboord met een elektrische boor in Banja Luka.

"Het waren er zes (verkrachters)… Ik moest toekijken wat ze mijn dochter aandeden, en zij moest toekijken wat ze met mij deden,"
– Ana Horvatinec (Vukovar)

"Het waren geen Servische vrijwilligers uit Servië of Četniks, maar Serviërs uit Vukovar met wie ik zowel goede als slechte tijden heb gedeeld," zei een andere vrouw die werd verkracht. Zij wonen nog steeds in Vukovar en ontvangen onze pensioenen.

In Croatia, more than 100,000 soldiers from the aggressor forces receive pensions. (Source)

The youngest victim at Ovčara was 15-year-old Igor Kačić, who was brutally murdered by his Serbian neighbour, Đorđe Šošić.

Eva Šegarić, from Škabrnja, lost an eye during the Second World War. During the Croatian War of Independence, her three sons and her husband were murdered by Chetniks. (Source)

Kata Šoljić, from Vukovar, was born in 1923. In the aftermath of the Second World War, she lost her four brothers, who were killed by Partisans. During the Croatian War of Independence, she also lost all four of her sons. (Source)

What Happened in Škabrnja?

On November 18, 1991, the Škabrnja massacre took place, in which dozens of Croatian civilians and soldiers were killed by troops of the Yugoslav People's Army (JNA) and Serbian paramilitary groups. Škabrnja is a village near Zadar, Croatia.

An estimated 62 to 84 people were killed, including many civilians, women, and children. The massacre occurred during the siege of Zadar, as Serbian and JNA forces sought to seize control of the area. In addition to the killings, homes were looted and set on fire.

Robert Majic, aged 20, was taken from Vukovar Hospital, after which all trace of him was lost. His mother, Katica: "Years have passed, and there is not a single trace of my Robica, nothing at all, only information. Every time I hear the name Robert, my heart skips a beat..."

Marijan Bosnjak, aged 29, a volunteer from Koška, was last seen at Vukovar Hospital. His wife, Irena: "For ten years, I firmly believed he was still alive. I refused to give up; I searched for him in every way I knew how. It was difficult. It was nothing like the internet we have today—you didn't know whom to ask or whom to contact. During the first year, there was a war, and later we stopped receiving any information at all. I couldn't forgive myself for thinking Marijan might come home, and I couldn't accept that he would never return. I fell into a deep depression and ended up in hospital..."

Miroslav Gojun, aged 28, was last traced to Trpinja. His brother, Peter: "The years went by, and then, I think it was 1995, we were watching television. There was a programme about Vukovar when Mother suddenly cried out, jumped up, and kissed the television... She had seen Miroslav sitting beside Vjeko's body, smoking, and it gave her hope once again that he might still be alive somewhere. But I knew..."

Damir Kovačić-Kole, aged 21, was last seen at Ovčara. Jasna Perak, Damir's sister: "When Mother read the evidence of what they had done to Damir, she became ill. She went into shock and was never the same again. I said to her, 'Mum, it's been 17 years. Surely you can't still believe that Damir is alive?' She answered softly, 'I still hope...' And yet, after that, she began to fade away, losing herself in her own world, and she died soon afterwards..."

Damjan Samardzic – "Veliki Boiler," aged 45, and Zorislav Gaspar – "Gašo," aged 18, stepfather and stepson, were last seen at Ovčara.

"I will never forgive myself for staying behind. My son had been wounded in the back and was taken to the hospital, but he and his stepfather wanted to go to the front. I cried and begged them not to go, not to let us be separated. But there, at the hospital, they separated us. They were taken to Ovčara, where they were tortured and then killed. Let them at least tell us where they are buried, so that they and I can finally find peace."

Drago Krizan, aged 34, was detained at Vukovar Hospital and was last seen in a hangar at Ovčara. His mother, Katica: "The last time I saw him was three months before he was killed naked."

Now I want only one thing: to be able to bury at least one of his bones while I am still alive.

Jadranko Anić Antić – "Šnicla," aged 32, a member of the Croatian Defence Forces (HOS), was last traced to Negoslavci. His wife, Milica:

"...Although we are aware of everything, even today, after thirty years, we cannot accept that he is gone, that he will never return... Our wounds will never heal; they will remain open forever. We no longer care whether the guilty are punished. What matters to us is that our loved ones are found and buried, especially while those who are searching for them with such painful longing are still alive... Give us their bodies! Give us their bones—that is what every human being deserves!"

Hrvoje Ljubas, aged 20, was killed at Ovčara. His mother, Anica:

"For me, every day is still 1991. For three days, I neglected everything about myself. I needed neither food nor water; I would simply sleep... And when I got up, I would grab something and scream, scream... And then I would think: I am the happiest mother in the world... I have buried my son...

"If only every mother could find her child... No one can understand my words except mothers who are still searching for their children...

"When I returned to the hotel after the identification, Marija Pavlić, the mother of Slobodan Pavlić, a man from Lovasče, took a rosary, raised it towards heaven, and cried out: 'God, give me at least one bone to bury, even if it belongs to someone else... Then I will carry a candle to that grave, and perhaps another mother will carry one for my child...'

"I will never forget that scene or those words, spoken in utter despair... In the end, she found him, and his remains were exhumed at Ovčara. But how many mothers are still waiting... No one knows how many have died waiting in vain..."

They Are Not Forgotten / Tanja Belobrajdić

Josip Batarelo, a defender of Vukovar, was buried on Friday at Miroševac Cemetery in Zagreb. He was identified alongside his fellow fighters Zorislav Gašpar and Dragutin Štic, as well as the French volunteer Jean-Michel Nicolier. Batarelo was a volunteer who was killed at Ovčara by a woman, Nada Kalaba, a former colleague of his. She was sentenced to nine years in prison.

Family members, friends, and fellow veterans paid their final respects to Batarelo yesterday with full military honours. His remains were exhumed from the mass graves at Ovčara in September, and he was identified in late October alongside the defenders Zorislav Gašpar, Dragutin Štic, and Jean-Michel Nicolier.

Who Was Batarelo?

Josip Batarelo, nicknamed Čoba, was a member of the 204th Brigade of the Croatian Army (HV), a volunteer in the Croatian War of Independence, and a non-commissioned officer. On November 20, 1991, he was forcibly taken from Vukovar Hospital and killed at Ovčara at the age of 44. He was married and had two children.

A relative told the Ferata news portal that "Josip was a handsome young man who seemed destined to become an athlete." The relative added: "He was a skilled and dedicated employee. With a background in education, he worked as a staff member and manager at the Nama department store in Vukovar."

Three Other Defenders Identified Alongside Nicolier: Who Were They?

Batarelo was also a prominent member of the Vukovar Rowing Club and one of 32 club members who were killed or went missing during the Croatian War of Independence.

"Josip began his rowing career at the Vukovar Rowing Club. After years of rowing, he completed his compulsory military service in the Yugoslav Navy in Split. There, he was selected for the sports unit and competed for the Mornar Rowing Club, which was part of the navy of the former country. He achieved remarkable results, including winning a gold medal at the Yugoslav Championships in both the coxed four and the eight.

"After completing his military service, he returned to Vukovar and to his club, where he became a coach. Throughout his career, he trained rowing crews of all ages, from the rowing school and younger juniors to senior athletes. He coached junior crews that competed at world championships and senior crews that, combined with rowers from other Yugoslav clubs, represented the country's national team."

"In short, he was an outstanding coach, an expert in his field, and an educator. He worked at Nama, the department store in Vukovar. In 1991, as dark clouds gathered over the Republic of Croatia, he joined the defence of his homeland, which, one could say, he defended until his very last breath," the club wrote when Batarelo was finally identified.

He Was Killed by a Colleague

According to witness testimony, Nada Kalaba recognised and killed Batarelo at Ovčara on November 20, 1991. She had been his colleague at the Nama department store in Vukovar and claimed that Batarelo had dismissed her because she was Serbian.

Kalaba was sentenced to nine years in prison. She was the wife of Stanko Vujanović, one of the perpetrators of the Ovčara massacre. As deputy commander of Miroljub Vujović's Territorial Defence unit, Vujanović ordered the notorious "gauntlet" through which Croats were forced to walk from the bus to the hangar. The prisoners were immediately beaten with wooden sticks, rifle butts, fists, feet, clubs, and other weapons. Vujanović led the column while singing, "There'll be meat; we'll slaughter Croats." He was sentenced to 20 years in prison by a court in Belgrade.

According to the testimony of Dragutin Berghofer, known as Beli, one of the few survivors of Ovčara, Nada Kalaba personally led her former colleague, Josip Batarelo, out of the hangar and executed him in cold blood.

Kalaba denied all the allegations during her trial, claiming that Batarelo had been killed by Štuka, the man who murdered Nicolier.

The trial record concerning the crimes committed at Ovčara states that "the witness saw Nada Kalaba, a key prosecution witness, and the now-deceased Mirko Vojnović lead a prisoner out of the hangar. The prisoner was Kalaba's former supervisor from before the war. He did not return to the hangar, and the witness did not know who had killed him."

The record also states that the witness "repeated that he knew the defendant, Nada Kalaba, and that he had seen Vukašinović questioning a man. He saw Kalaba arguing with the man and heard her say that she had lost her job because of him. He then saw the defendant kick the man in the shin. He described the man as wearing civilian clothes, unarmed, and having a moustache."

The record further notes that "Judge Krstajić emphasised that, based on the statements of both key prosecution witnesses and the testimony of witness Stamatović, the panel concluded that she had killed a prisoner in front of the hangar with a pistol shot."

Source: narod.hr

"My Soldier Was Tortured Alive, His Ears Were Cut Off, and He Was Slaughtered. The Captured Women from Škabrnja Witnessed It."

As part of the observance of the Day of Remembrance for the Victims of the Homeland War and the Victims of Vukovar and Škabrnja, the 34th commemoration of the tragedy in Škabrnja was held on Tuesday. Croatia's Minister of Justice, Damir Habijan, emphasised that "we cannot find peace as long as even one missing person remains unaccounted for."

Habijan stated that the day was filled with sorrow, but also with pride and hope. He recalled that particularly grave war crimes had been committed in this area, which still stand today as "a testament to the defeat of humanity," because "no sentence can bring the victims back or erase the horrors that took place here."

He noted that 69 war-crimes proceedings are currently underway in Croatia, seven of which were initiated this year, while 74 cases have been concluded with final, legally binding judgments. He also highlighted the unresolved issue of 1,740 missing persons.

"As long as we have not found every last missing person, there can be no peace," he said.

Progress in prosecuting war crimes depends on cooperation with Serbia, which, according to him, is not at a satisfactory level. He stressed that Croatia must not give up its pursuit of justice for the victims.

The Minister of the Sea, Transport and Infrastructure, Oleg Butković, said he was particularly pleased to see so many young people attending the commemoration, as passing memories on to younger generations is precisely the essence of such ceremonies.

"Today, 34 years after the tragedy, Croatia is building a better, more tolerant, and safer society," Butković said. He added that the people of Škabrnja still bear a heavy burden because of crimes that have not been prosecuted, but he believes that the judicial authorities are doing everything in their power to change this.

The Minister of Demography and Immigration, Ivan Šipić, emphasised that the commemoration was both a sorrowful and a proud occasion. He recalled the demographic losses suffered during the Croatian War of Independence, including the deaths of hundreds of children and entire families.

Marko Miljanić, the military commander of the defence of Škabrnja, stated that the 1991 attack on the village could not have been prevented because, in his view, plans to subjugate Croatia had existed for years before the conflict began.

"It was impossible to prevent Ratko Mladić from advancing from Knin. For years, they had been plotting to subjugate the rest of what was then Yugoslavia, which they envisioned as a Greater Serbia. The Croatian people could not escape their fate," he said.

He identified the political decision at the time to hand over the weapons of the Territorial Defence forces as one of the main causes of what happened. "Slovenia kept its weapons, but Račan and his clique handed ours over so that the Yugoslav Army could keep them. Those who trusted them bear responsibility for what happened to us," he added.

Approximately 20 soldiers were killed and 40 to 50 were captured, he said, pointing to the brutality of the crimes committed against defenders and civilians.

"Here, at the very place where we are standing now, my soldier was tortured alive—they cut off his ears and slaughtered him. Around twenty women from Škabrnja who had been taken prisoner witnessed it. Our soldiers were murdered mercilessly, and the women were placed in front of tanks."

The commemoration programme in Škabrnja concluded with the laying of wreaths, the lighting of candles, and tributes to the fallen defenders and civilians. The ceremony reaffirmed that the victims would never be forgotten and that the search for missing persons would remain a priority for Croatian institutions.

Source: tportal.hr

The Massacre in Tovarnik

To this day, no one has been held accountable for the 75 brutal murders committed in Tovarnik in 1991.

Twenty-five years ago, Tovarnik made a great sacrifice for Croatia's freedom and independence. The names of these 75 victims serve as a permanent reminder of the sacrifice they made. The attack on Tovarnik began at the start of the feast of Saint Matthew, the patron saint of the parish, and lasted for three days, until Tovarnik was occupied on 22 September 1991. Following the occupation, many people were killed, and countless homes were destroyed and set on fire. The Church of Saint Matthew, the Apostle and Evangelist, was also destroyed.

Killing, beating people to death, starvation, and all manner of physical and psychological torture—acts almost impossible for a sound human mind to comprehend—were part of daily life in the house that served as a detention and torture camp, belonging to the late Dr Đorđe Cvejićać. By the end of 1991, at least 300 Croatian war veterans and civilians, primarily from Tovarnik and the surrounding area, had passed through this place. Those who did not survive the torture house were executed elsewhere and thrown into mass graves. Among them was Father Ivan Burik, who had spent 28 years of his priesthood serving in Tovarnik. Some villagers were taken to camps in Serbia, particularly in Begejci and Sremska Mitrovica.

After the occupation, all Croats were forced to wear white armbands and hang white sheets outside their homes.

The police kept the Croats under surveillance and did nothing else. Following the displacement of the population in 1997, a mass grave was excavated, and the remains of 53 other victims were recovered from secondary graves. They were reburied together at the cemetery in Tovarnik on 31 January 1998.

In memory of this tragic event, 31 January is commemorated in Tovarnik as "The Day Tovarnik Wept."

260 Days by Jakov Sedlar

The film 260 Days tells the story of Marijan Gubina, a ten-year-old boy from Dalj, Croatia, whose life changed abruptly when war reached his hometown.

He was taken captive by Serbian forces or forces supported by the Yugoslav People's Army (JNA) and spent 260 days in captivity, enduring violence and abuse. The story is about survival, coming to terms with trauma, and ultimately striving for peace and a future.

Monuments to Heroes Have Been Vandalised or Defaced

HOS fighter and Croatian hero Jean-Michel Nicolier (1 July 1966 – 20 November 1991) was a French volunteer and Croatian soldier during the Croatian War of Independence. He was killed during the Vukovar massacre. He told his mother: "I want to help these people; they need me."

In July 1991, he boarded a train alone and arrived in Zagreb. There, he joined the Croatian Defence Forces (HOS) and was sent to the front along the Kupa River in Banovina.

In September 1991, Nicolier arrived in Vukovar with the last group of volunteers. He fought on several battlefields around Vukovar and was wounded twice during those three months. On 9 November 1991, he was wounded in the leg by shrapnel and taken to Vukovar Hospital, where he received treatment. Nicolier remained in the hospital until the fall of Vukovar on 18 November 1991.

On 20 November 1991, he was interviewed by French reporter Agnès Vahramian, to whom he described his experiences in Vukovar as "a slaughterhouse."

That same day, he was taken from the hospital by the Yugoslav People's Army (JNA) and Serbian paramilitaries and transported to the Ovčara farm.

According to later testimonies, Nicolier was taken out of the barns at Ovčara by a man named Kemo, brutally beaten, and murdered by Spasoje Petković with a gunshot to the head. Petković then took 20 francs from his pocket. Nicolier's remains were among those of approximately sixty victims who have never been found.

Vandalism of Monuments to Croatian Defenders

2011 – Borovo Selo: A memorial to twelve police officers was defaced. (Source)

2014 – Split: A monument to fallen HOS members was doused with red paint. (Source)

2018 – Novi Travnik: A monument to fallen Croatian war veterans was damaged once again. After the cross was vandalised in October 2017, the marble flower vases were smashed this time. (Source)

2018 – Zagreb, Dubrava: An unknown individual spray-painted a red communist star on a monument commemorating 74 Croatian defenders who fell during the war of the 1990s. (Source)

2019 – Split: A stone was thrown at the Tepljuh memorial plaque, dedicated to those who were sent to Serbian concentration camps. (Source)

2019 – Sisak: Vandals once again damaged a monument commemorating Croatian defenders who lost their lives. (Source)

To this day, these monuments continue to be defaced.

Vukovar & Ovčara

Vukovar is a city in eastern Croatia, situated on the Danube River near the border with Serbia. During the Croatian War of Independence, one of the fiercest battles of the war took place here: the Battle of Vukovar, which lasted from 25 August to 18 November 1991. The city was besieged by the Yugoslav People's Army (JNA) and Serbian paramilitaries, whose forces numbered approximately 36,000 soldiers, against around 1,800 Croatian defenders.

For 87 days, Vukovar was subjected to intense bombardment, with an estimated 12,000 mortar and rocket attacks per day at its peak. After the city fell, hundreds of civilians and prisoners of war were executed during the Vukovar massacre, and more than 30,000 people were deported. The city was almost completely destroyed and became a symbol of resistance and suffering.

After the war, Vukovar was peacefully reintegrated into Croatia in 1998 under a United Nations transitional administration. In 2013, Vukovar was declared a City of Special Piety.

 Today, Vukovar is a place of remembrance, with its damaged water tower serving as one of the most powerful symbols of the struggle.

Vukovar Hospital played a crucial role during the siege in 1991. The Dr Juraj Njavro National Memorial Hospital, better known as Vukovar Hospital, was subjected to continuous bombardment during the siege and served as a refuge for the wounded, civilians, and medical personnel.

After the city fell on 18 November 1991, approximately 300 people were deported from the hospital by the Yugoslav People's Army (JNA), despite agreements with the Red Cross. At least 93 patients were later murdered in the infamous Ovčara massacre, one of the most serious war crimes of the conflict.

Today, the hospital is a memorial site and museum, where visitors can see the underground shelters that served as operating rooms and sleeping quarters during the siege.

Find books about Vukovar by Damir Plavšić here.

Đuro Kovačević – "WE LIE WOUNDED IN THE MINEFIELD…", 15 November 1991 (source)

The fifth day and the sixth night find us lying on the cold, wet ground, soaked through, freezing, hungry and thirsty. The dead lay all around us. We were not far from death ourselves—half alive, half dead.

In the morning, at first light: mist, frost, bitter cold. We tried to keep warm by pressing our bodies against one another, like sardines packed in a tin. Less than two metres away, an old man wearing a hat and an old woman with a headscarf passed us like shadows. They did not look our way, even though we called out to them softly. They simply kept walking, whatever might happen—whether someone killed them or not. They just carried on.

We were going through the worst moments of our lives; we were almost freezing to death. I thought of the partisan film Igmanski Marš, in which the fighters froze… gangrene, festering wounds, frostbite, pain, hunger, thirst—one ordeal followed another. We no longer groaned; we accepted the pain. We simply could not go on.

At around six o'clock, the first weak rays of sunlight warmed us a little. My cuticles hurt, and my feet felt swollen—or perhaps my combat boots had shrunk. I tried to take them off to find some relief, but I could not get them off my feet. I no longer had the strength.

After five days, we could endure no more, and with no help coming, the four of us agreed to kill ourselves to put an end to our suffering. Three of us agreed, and Piđo was to shoot himself in the head first, then I would, and… But Ramo said, "No, not now. Later." And that is what saved us.

Steam rose from our wet clothes, and the frost around us began to melt. I licked Piđo's jacket, hoping to find a few drops of water to quench my endless thirst. Then the crisis passed. I often prayed silently to myself. From Nuštar, they were firing at the marines, and shells were falling all around us

Shrapnel flew in every direction, cutting down the corn stalks.

I prayed to God for mercy—that a shell would land among us and put an end to our suffering. But a little later, I prayed: "God, let us live." The will to survive was still there.

Less than 500 metres away, on slightly higher ground to our right, stood the guns of the Yugoslav People's Army (JNA) and the Chetniks. We could hear them swearing and shouting orders: "First battery, load, fire! Second… load, fire!"

On the other side of the Vuka River, a tractor appeared, fitted with a corn picker. On its trailer stood a real Chetnik: a black šubara fur hat bearing the kokarda insignia, a beard, and an automatic rifle in his hands. He looked around. He did not see us, even though we were lying only 100 metres away.

The day passed, and I took up watch again. Night fell, and we survived that fifth terrible day as well.

This was our suffering, our cross, our penance… our relay race with death.

In the photograph are Ana Manjkas, myself, and Žarko's schoolmate from Dubrava, searching for the body—with prayers and great effort. We did not know that four bodies lay buried just 100 metres from where we were… It would take 28 years before they were found.

The film about Đuro Kovačević, in which he recounts the defence of Bogdanovci and the suffering he endured in the minefield, can be watched on YouTube here:

He remembers the first dead body he saw. It was a man lying face down in the mud, whose age he could not determine. Tank-track marks were visible across his back.

Serbian journalist Dejan Anastasijević recalled everything he had witnessed in Vukovar in 1991 in an article he wrote for Vice. It was his first "real" journalistic assignment and his first direct encounter with war and the horrors it brings.

"Those images returned to my dreams every night for months. Gradually, it stopped, but they never disappeared—they are still just beneath the surface," Anastasijević wrote in his article, published by Vice in 2016.

He remembers the first dead body he saw. It was a man lying face down in the mud, whose age he could not make out. Tank-track marks were visible across his back.

"He had probably been lying there for days, in the middle of the road, so completely crushed that he looked more like a muddy cardboard cut-out than a human being," Anastasijević wrote. He added that he saw many more bodies later and that nobody made any effort to remove them for as long as the fighting continued.

"Some of the bodies had been gnawed by pigs roaming freely through the villages in search of food. Most of the corpses—and this was the largest number I had ever seen in one place—lay outside Vukovar Hospital. With no electricity for the refrigerated rooms and the basement being used as a shelter, they simply laid the dead there, side by side, like logs. They could not bury them because of the constant mortar attacks and sniper fire," he wrote.

He also mentions that Serbian state television filmed that same inner courtyard and claimed it showed "Serbian civilians who had been killed by Ustaša."

He calls this "a shameless falsification of history that continues to this day."

"One of the ugliest episodes of the propaganda war, which ran parallel to the real war, is the story of the forty babies from Vukovar. Reuters news agency reported, citing anonymous witnesses, that forty babies slaughtered by Ustaša and placed in plastic trash bags had been found in a daycare center in Vukovar. All the journalists present at the time went looking for those babies. For two days we searched — and we found nothing, because they never existed. The story was fabricated by a local correspondent from Belgrade, likely on someone's orders, and Reuters had to retract the report and apologize to its clients as soon as this was established," Anastasijević writes. He recalls that after the resistance in Vukovar was broken, "drunk, wild groups of reservists and volunteers" stormed into the city, and nobody could control them. "The city — or what was left of it — was handed over to them completely, along with the remaining citizens. They looted and murdered people in homes and on the streets; there were also gang rapes. They were drunk not only on alcohol, but also on blood," reads the article on Vice. The article was originally published in 2016. 

Source: vecernji.hr 

Manda Matić – sick, abused, and raped in the camp, and forgotten by Croatia

"Do you still remember Manda... the camp prisoner Manda? I think of her often... actually almost every day. I hear she is still alive, scavenging around trash containers, stripped of all dignity and hope. Humiliated and sick. As if she had never been in a camp. As if she had never been tortured. As if she had never been falsely accused of being a sniper. A sniper! As if nothing had ever happened..." The words of an unknown man cut through the stuffy, smoky space of a neighborhood cafe, even drowning out the patriotic song playing in the background.

"Do I remember Manda from Vukovar? Of course. I saw everything. My cell was right across from hers. We were in the Stajićevo camp, which was actually located inside a prison. Camp prisoners were on one floor, and regular Serbian criminals were on another. And Manda... to them she was a gift from heaven. Every night, when the judicial guards and wardens of the regular prisoners left, the camp guards entered her cell with at least twelve men. She was beaten and broken so many times, says another, visibly shaken.

"So much time has passed, but I still find it hard to talk about it. Besides being afraid, she was also sick. Mentally sick, do you understand? But they didn't care about that. They did whatever they wanted with her, because they knew nobody cared about her. After a while she became pregnant. Five, six months. She was put on a list for a prisoner exchange. Then she was taken to a doctor. They ripped the unborn child alive from her belly," he says bitterly.

"Manda is a disgrace, both for Serbia and for Croatia. Humiliated in the most horrific way by both sides. First the Serbs beat her daily and demanded she confess to being a sniper who had killed eighteen Serbian special forces. I don't need to say anything about the rapes... even though I didn't see them myself. We always had to keep our heads down. And now I hear she wanders through Vukovar, searching through trash cans. She is neither recognized as a veteran nor as a civilian war victim. Manda is a martyr, a Croatian heroine whom nobody knows, or nobody cares about. Nobody talks about Manda," another adds.

"Please," says the loudest man, "what sniper? When she came in you could tell right away that she wasn't completely healthy, as if she had a mild mental disability. But she fit their story perfectly. They needed a woman they could accuse of such things. To make the world believe that Croats were training women as killers. Manda was the perfect candidate. She didn't know how to defend herself. That is how the story of Manda – the cruel sniper – was created in Serbia.

"While we were being transported from one camp to another by bus, we were attacked at Ruma by a group of hysterical women who were banging on the bus windows to get to Manda."

What that woman went through...

"How is it that everyone in Serbia knows about her, but no one in Croatia?" asks a third, less-informed man.

"Because she is important to no one. The Serbs abused her illness to make her confess to everything, and now the Croats are doing the same – they are fine with it, because she cannot defend herself anyway. It is hard to explain everything this woman has endured. As if all the misery of the world has fallen on her shoulders. She is sick, has been imprisoned, beaten, raped, and ultimately... alone and forgotten. She is on almost no list... has barely received anything. But she is on the list of Croatian defenders accused of war crimes. She is one of 300 veterans on an international wanted list. Imagine the absurdity: a veteran accused of war crimes, yet having no official status as a veteran," concludes the still-unknown narrator.

It isn't polite, I know, but I mechanically turn around and ask: "Sorry, who is Manda?"

Within a few seconds, we push tables together and I find out that I am sitting with former camp prisoners Ilija Ačkar and Branko Čulić, who experienced the horrors of the Serbian camps firsthand. It took only a few minutes before they began their long, painful story about Manda Matić – the only Croatian woman imprisoned in Serbia for whom the death penalty was demanded, because according to the indictment she was a sniper who had killed eighteen Serbs.

And so, purely by chance in a smoky suburban cafe in Zagreb, I first heard about Manda Matić – an unknown heroine... a true, pure martyr of the Croatian War of Independence.

It is high time that all of Croatia knows her name. (source)

Although both languages – Croatian and Serbian – are very similar, Serbs traditionally write in Cyrillic, and Croats in the Latin script. Therefore, the use of Cyrillic in Croatian cities evokes resistance, especially in places with a fraught war history such as Vukovar. For what Auschwitz means to the Jews, Vukovar is to the Croats. Cyrillic script in Vukovar is what the swastika was in Auschwitz – unacceptable. Vukovar is a sacred city, but also a haunting place, where the birds stopped singing long ago. Humanity must never forget the horrors of Vukovar, and yet these atrocities continue to this day.  (source)

Borovo Selo massacre

In early May 1991, Serbian rebels from Borovo Selo (Vukovar region) tortured, injured, and captured two Croatian police officers. The Croatian government quickly dispatched a convoy of special police units to free the two officers and restore order.

When the convoy entered the village, Serbian rebels ambushed it. Twelve police officers were killed and 21 were injured. During the retreat, the Serbian rebels mutilated the bodies of the deceased Croatian officers with axes and knives. Ambulances from the Vukovar hospital quickly arrived at the horrific scene, but some vehicles had Serbian crews who, upon arrival, threw hand grenades at the injured Croatian officers.

This paved the way for a terrible war. The rebels, soon reinforced by the Serbian-led Yugoslav People's Army, refused to accept Croatia's secession from communist Yugoslavia and Croatia's independence.

The massacres in Borovo Selo showed the brutal lengths to which the Serbian rebels were willing to go to achieve their goal. On May 2, 2012, a dignified procession through Borovo Selo, during which a new memorial plaque was unveiled for the monument of the murdered Croatian officers, marked the 21st anniversary of the massacre. Silence, the stone plaque, and photos of the murdered officers expressed deep sorrow and pain. (source)

Stevo Čulej has been searching for the truth about the crime in Borovo Selo on May 2, 1991, for 23 years

As early as the beginning of the 1990s, approximately 50 people determined to be involved in the murder of Croatian police officers were sentenced to 20 years in prison, but they were included in an amnesty and the judiciary dropped the prosecution.

Since May 2, 1991, when in the afternoon at the base in Zagreb where he was training as a special forces officer he heard that his younger brother Josip had been murdered along with 11 other police officers in Borovo Selo, Stevo Čulej has had no peace. He is investigating who the murderers of the Croatian police officers are, writing to state officials and requesting that an investigation be launched and the perpetrators of this crime be punished — a crime that showed that the Serbs would stop at nothing and that war was inevitable.

While showing us disturbing photos of mutilated bodies of murdered police officers, showing what a human can do when they cease to be human, Čulej says he received no response from anyone except the Ministry of Internal Affairs, which expressed its condolences over his brother's death and informed him that no one can be tried twice for the same crime.

As mentioned, in the early 1990s, approximately 50 individuals identified as being involved in the murder of Croatian police officers were sentenced to 20 years in prison, but they were included in an amnesty and the prosecution was stopped. Only a certain Milan Marinković was sentenced two years ago to 3.5 years because, as a 'militia officer', he was involved in capturing and abusing two police officers who were rescued on May 2 by Croatian police officers. – He and a certain Jakovljević beat these two police officers in a weekend cottage along the Danube near Borovo Selo, and they are essentially the initiators and perpetrators of the crime that would follow. For that, he received a 3.5-year prison sentence. People from Vukovar tell me that they occasionally see Marinković walking around in Vukovar; he is presumably released for good behavior. I have investigated for years who killed my brother and his colleagues, and I have arrived at a list of 53 Serbs from Borovo Selo who were involved in the murder. I have their photos, details of what they did that day, where they live now, although most fled for good reason to Serbia or elsewhere. I handed over that list with extensive documentation on this case in the form of a report to President Josipović and then-Public Prosecutor Bajić, and I wrote to the government, parliament, judiciary, and the Ministry of Internal Affairs to take action so that the criminals are punished, but so far nothing has been done except that Marinković is serving a 3.5-year prison sentence while walking around Vukovar. My brother, like most of the young men, was not killed in battle, but was wounded and taken to the courtyard of a house in the center of Borovo Selo, where he was murdered by being struck on the head with a hard object until he was unrecognizable. This is a war crime because the Geneva Convention protects prisoners of war and the wounded, and this was not respected in Borovo Selo. Therefore, the perpetrators cannot be protected by amnesty, and I continue to demand that they be tried despite the amnesty. In a letter to Bajić, I wrote that I have a list of perpetrators and that if the state does nothing, I will take the law into my own hands and track down the criminals using my list of 53 names – says Stevo Čulej-Stiv, veteran, police specialist, and vice president of the national association and president of the Vukovar-Srijem Association of Special Police.

The photos he shows display the mutilated head of a police officer whose eyes were gouged out, another whose left arm was likely severed with an axe, cuts can be seen on the bodies, a police officer was slaughtered, and all of this is the result of the horrific abuse by residents of Borovo inflicted on defenseless wounded men. Čulej reminds us that on the local cemetery a 'mausoleum' was erected for Vukašin Šoškočanin, who led the crime of May 2. The monument features verses written in Cyrillic that, among other things, speak of Serbian land where Serbian flags are placed. A similar monument was erected for the criminals of the so-called White Eagles, and Čulej demands that the authorities, in addition to starting an investigation into the crime, also remove these inappropriate monuments because they offend the feelings of the families of the victims of the massacre in Borovo Selo. (source)

Camp Stajićevo

After we were taken prisoner, we were brought to Serbia by bus. They took us to a small, eerie place. Through the window we saw only a single light, which made the night even more terrifying. We did not know where we were, but we realized we were far enough removed from civilization and witnesses for the criminals to do whatever they wanted. We were brave during the war and were not afraid of death. But here, in this abandoned place, in this darkness, we were still afraid. Later we would discover that the place was called Stajićevo, a small uninhabited location near Zrenjanin, in eastern Vojvodina.

When we arrived at this place, I was convinced that we would be shot. Without identity, rights, and witnesses, a person feels their vulnerability. Vukovar and everything we were there are already so far behind us. It is one thing to die in battle, and quite another to be trampled like a worm in a distant, unknown place, without witnesses, when all the fighting is over. The front door of the bus opens and we are brutally forced outside. With every action they express all their hatred, with curses, blows, and loud shouting. All of this shatters the psyche and causes turmoil. As we exit, we are forced through a twenty-meter-long line of Serbian soldiers, in which they beat us with fists, chains, batons, rifle butts, and even baseball bats.

Those twenty meters to the barn seemed like an eternity. Some of those who fell while walking through that line were beaten to death. Somehow I managed to reach the barn, remaining upright. We rush inside one after another and soon the barn was filled with defenders. We were packed together like sardines. I try to see if I recognize any of the defenders. It is difficult to recognize my comrades from yesterday, because we were all covered in blood from the beatings. Still, I recognize Goran Popić next to me, and Jankus, Denis Perko, Miro, and Miki are standing opposite me. Part of the Turbo squad is back together. This means a lot to me, and I am sure it does to them as well. Even when we look at each other, we feel that we know and understand one another. We do not communicate with words, but I empathize with their suffering, and so I know they empathize with mine. It is a huge comfort, but it does not diminish the suffering.

The hours and days are incredibly long. Often the soldiers come to beat us, probably whenever someone feels like it. With fists, legs, or some kind of tool.

Our only response is groaning and screaming that escapes and fades beneath the blows. Every strike and every cry hurts us. Croatia is now indescribably far away, and everything that happened a few days ago is a distant past, as if this suffering is now the only reality in the world and we can empathize with nothing else. We are without any information, so the hardest part is fighting with our own hope and trust; and preserving the bit of morality we have in the fight against the questions of whether it will ever pass, whether we will survive, how long it will take, what consequences will remain; Will anyone ever find me?

I am also astonished by this human hatred and I rack my brain over how someone can be so inhuman. I wonder if my executioner has a family, parents, children; when and where he learned all this. The first two days they gave us nothing to eat. They abused us in every possible way, just to break us. They made us sing the Yugoslav national anthem and Chetnik songs. The first few days we slept on bare concrete, the temperature was around -20 degrees Celsius and we had no blankets. Long, endlessly cold nights and unimaginable cold. Some older camp prisoners had their fingers completely black from the cold. Only later did we receive some military blankets left over from World War II. And we got our first meal only on the third day: a slice of bread and a thin slice of salami. The water we received in bottles froze at night. Besides these tortures, there was a whole series of other abuses and tortures. But I will probably never fully describe most of them. How can I convey to you all those possible atrocities, the cold, the pain of the blows, the superhuman toughness, the stench, the ingenious hatred, the cold, insensitive, hateful faces of heartless wretches of the same human species? Thus the days pass in this most terrible place on earth. Questions also arise in my head: what happened to my Croatia, where are my comrades? Did my brother Mile survive? I assume the hospital has been evacuated? And what if he didn't survive? Are my friends and family worried about me? When and how will they find out where I am? What happened to Rob and the others from Turbo Platoon? What happened to the other Vukovarians? I suspect that if they treat us this way, countless crimes must have been committed. But how many are there; will we ever find out? And how is the war in Croatia going; what will happen to it? Because they didn't kill us immediately, we begin to hope that we might somehow survive this. But hopelessness and despair kept coming back, fear, disbelief, amazement. Only after two weeks did the Red Cross discover us. It was an incredible event that still amazes me to this day. I remember the representative from Zurich, a young Macedonian woman, who, after seeing what we looked like, cried incessantly for 20 minutes. We were dirty and bloody, scared, skinny. She looked at our tortured bodies and sobbed brokenly, full of pity, wonder, and despair.

After the tears, they got to work and registered us so they could tell our people where we were. This would eventually connect us to the world after all, and the news that we were alive would reach Croatia. In this hell on earth, we spent 32 days of unbearable torture, after which we were taken further south to a military prison in Niš. So that I could suffer for Croatia, and so that they could take revenge on me for having bravely fought for it. And because I existed at all. (source)

During the Ottoman control of the Balkans starting in the 15th century, Bosnia integrated into the empire, forcing the local population to navigate survival through submission, flight, or conversion. Coercive practices like the devşirme system forcibly removed Christian boys from their families for military training and conversion, establishing a deep-rooted Islamic presence that continues to influence the region's complex heritage.

1993-1994 – Vitez Massacre During the 316-day war in Vitez, 653 Croatian soldiers and civilians were killed by members of the Army of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina. 431 children were orphaned, 35 children were killed, and more than 30 villages were burned to the ground.

The Battle of Sisak (1593) One of the most symbolic victories. An Ottoman army under Hasan Pasha invaded Croatia, but was defeated near the city of Sisak by a coalition of Croatian, Austrian, and Slovenian forces. This victory marked the end of the so-called Hundred Years' Croatian-Ottoman War.

The Defense of Klis (1522–1537) The fortress of Klis, strategically located above Split, was defended for years by Petar Kružić and his Uskoks against repeated Ottoman sieges. Although Klis eventually fell in 1537, Kružić's resistance became legendary and inspired later uprisings.

The Battle of Slunj (1584) A smaller but significant victory in which Croatian forces led by Ban Tamás Erdődy defeated an Ottoman army. It was a morale booster during a time of continuous border conflicts.

1493 – Battle of Krbava Field
1593 – Battle of Sisak
1715 – Siege of Sinj

The Sinjska Alka is an annual equestrian competition in Sinj, Croatia, commemorating the victory over the Ottoman army in 1715. Knights on horseback attempt to hit a metal ring with a lance while riding at full gallop. The tradition honors both the heroic defenders of Sinj and its patron saint, Mary. It has been included on the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity since 2010.

During the Ottoman-Venetian War, an Ottoman army of an estimated 60,000 men marched toward the small town of Sinj in Dalmatia (now Croatia), which was defended by only about 700 soldiers and civilians. The siege lasted several days, but against all odds, the defenders held their ground.

The Siege of Gvozdansko (1577–1578) Although this technically ended in an Ottoman victory, the story of the defense is heroic. The Croatian defenders held out for months in the winter cold without food or fire. When the Ottomans finally breached the fortress, they found all the defenders dead — having perished from exhaustion, yet with their weapons in hand. Even the Ottoman commander paid tribute to their courage.

During the war in Bosnia in the 1990s, the Muslim army fired more than a hundred shells at Vitez and launched a fierce attack. They breached the Buhine Kuće area, south of the village of Svirino, cutting off the connections between Vitez and Busovača. Members of the Bosnian army murdered a large number of Croatian civilians — including children, women, and the elderly — as well as veterans in Buhine Kuće. According to initial reports, 26 Croats were brutally killed. In 2020, a commemorative video was produced. To date, no one has been held accountable for these crimes.

Tomislav Salopek was beheaded in 2015 by Islamic State (IS)

In 1530, Ottoman commander Ahmed Pasha invaded the Poljica region with ten thousand soldiers. Mila Gojsalić was captured and taken to his camp. 

According to tradition, in the early morning she managed to infiltrate the powder magazine of the Ottoman camp and set it on fire, sacrificing herself, Ahmed Pasha, and a large part of his army. Her act caused panic among the remaining troops, allowing the people of Poljica to defeat the enemy.

Her courageous sacrifice lives on in literature, visual arts, and music. The famous sculptor Ivan Meštrović created an impressive statue of her overlooking the Cetina Gorge near Omiš. And as you already know, Jakov Gotovac composed an opera about her life.

In her birthplace, the Dani Mile Gojsalić festival is held annually, a cultural tribute to her heroism and Dalmatian traditions.

Skinned Alive for the Faith: The Gruesome Sacrifice of a Serbian Bishop

Teodor Nestorović (also known as Saint Theodore of Vršac) was a Serbian Orthodox bishop who lived at the end of the 16th century.

He has become a crucial symbol of Serbian resistance against Ottoman rule.

The Uprising (1594): He was the spiritual and political leader of the Banat Uprising, which was one of the largest Serbian uprisings against the Ottomans before the 19th century.

Religious Symbolism: Under his leadership, the Serbs fought with banners depicting Saint Sava (the founder of the Serbian Church). This was a direct provocation to the Ottoman authorities.

Canonization: Because of his sacrifices and his loyalty to the faith, he was officially canonized in 1994 by the Serbian Orthodox Church. His feast day falls on May 29 (according to the Julian calendar).

Martyrdom: After the uprising was crushed by the Ottomans, Teodor was captured. According to tradition, by order of the Pasha of Timișoara, he was executed in a gruesome manner by being skinned alive.

His death led to one of the most notorious acts of revenge in Balkan history: in retaliation for the uprising under Teodor, the Ottomans had the relics of Saint Sava removed from the Mileševa monastery and publicly burned in Belgrade.

Diva Grabovčeva – Symbol of Courage and Loyalty

Diva Grabovčeva is a young Croatian woman from the Herzegovina region, near Bosnia, whose story has lived on for centuries in Croatian culture and history. She refused to marry an Ottoman Turk, a courageous act of loyalty to her faith and people during the difficult times of Ottoman rule.

According to tradition, Diva fled to Kedžara to escape the marriage, but the Ottoman man returned with soldiers and found her there. He murdered her because she remained steadfast in her refusal. Her death is seen as a sacrifice for freedom, faith, and identity.

Each year, thousands of Catholic pilgrims travel to her memorial site to honor her courage and steadfastness.

She has become a symbol of resistance against oppression and the importance of staying true to yourself and your roots.

Her story reminds us of the struggle of many generations who guarded their identity and freedom despite severe trials. Diva Grabovčeva remains a source of inspiration for many in Croatia, Bosnia, and beyond.

Where Croats and Hungarians Stood Together: The Defense of Laslovo

Laslovo commemorated its 34th anniversary of the heroic defense and the breakthrough from encirclement on November 24, 1991. For 152 days, the village served as the first line of defense for Osijek. During that period, 48 Croatian defenders and civilians lost their lives; 15 people are still missing.

During the commemoration in the Park of Croatian Defenders, families, veterans, and residents lit candles. Minister Tomo Medved thanked the defenders and reminded everyone that Croats and Hungarians fought together and that their mutual bond remains strong.

Today, the village continues to develop with support from the Croatian government, while the search for the missing goes on daily.

The representative of the Hungarian minority, Robert Jankovics, emphasized that many Hungarians also fought for Croatia and that their community is entitled to good living conditions in the places they call home.

Commander Ladislav Kočiš described once again how the defenders, despite numerous wounded, scarce ammunition, and the absence of reinforcements, decided on a nighttime breakout. Surrender was not an option due to the expected consequences. Thanks to their strong morale and discipline, they succeeded in reaching free territory.

Laslovo remains a powerful symbol of courage and sacrifice that must never be forgotten.

Source: Kroatische Nationalmannschaft

Bleiburg: The Genocide Under Tito's Reign

In 1945, just days after the end of the Second World War, Tito and his partisans began an extermination campaign against men, women, and children whom they considered enemies of the regime.

The mass murder began with the forced repatriation of approximately 700,000 civilians and soldiers who had fled from Croatia and Slovenia and sought asylum in Austria, immediately after the end of the war.

The refugees, misled by the British who falsely promised them safe shelter from the Americans in Italy, were instead loaded onto trains and sent back to Yugoslavia. Many were murdered on the spot; others died during death marches or in mass executions scattered across the country.

Based on filmed interviews with survivors, confessions of perpetrators, British officers, intelligence services, historians, and new evidence of mass graves, the documentary follows the severe violations of the Geneva Conventions and international law – facts now known as the Bleiburg Massacre and Operation Slaughterhouse.

The commemoration of the Bleiburg massacres honors tens of thousands of Croats who fled the communist regime in 1945.

However, upon arrival in Austria, they were sent back by the British army, after which they were forced to walk the so-called "Way of the Cross" – a long, lethal march that ended in their brutal execution by communist 'antifascists'.

Milovan Djilas, likely one of the most famous dissidents from Yugoslavia and worldwide, spoke in 1979 with journalist and writer George Urban. In an extensive interview for the British magazine Encounter, Djilas spoke about a long-suppressed fact: that British troops handed over up to 40,000 people to Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union. Many of them were innocent refugees who were subsequently killed by the communist regime.

"Most of those sent back from Austria by the British were ordinary peasants," Djilas said. "They had killed no one. They were not Ustaše or Home Guard fighters. Their only 'crime' was their fear of communism – and the reputation of the communists."

The bloody trail of communism

Many Croats recognize that Tito's partisan army was effective in the resistance against the German and Italian occupiers during World War II, but they often add qualifications to that.

For them, the post-war repression, such as the mass executions of Croatian soldiers and civilians (for example at Bleiburg and in the mass graves in Slovenia), weighs heavier than his role as a resistance leader. The fact that Tito suppressed Croatian nationalism and imposed a Yugoslav identity is also heavily held against him.

Still, historically speaking, there is no doubt about his military role: the partisan army under his leadership was the largest resistance army in occupied Europe.

In short: the facts are mostly recognized, but the valuation is strongly colored by subsequent events.

Let me take you through why that is so.

After World War II, the communists under the leadership of Josip Broz Tito took power in Yugoslavia. During and after the war, thousands of opponents of the regime (such as supporters of the Croatian Independence Movement, monarchists, political opponents, and alleged collaborators) were imprisoned, tortured, and executed without trial. Often entire families were murdered because they were seen as 'enemies of the people'. In some cases, children were targeted directly because the regime wanted to prevent certain families from continuing or wished to set an example. The communist regime often legitimized these acts as necessary for rebuilding the state and eradicating opponents.

Some remains of female victims of communist crimes at Huda Jama (source)

Official recognition and investigation into these mass graves came only decades later, with the fall of communism and the independence of the various Yugoslav states. Local museums and organizations document this history through testimonies of survivors and surviving relatives.

A shocking confession by a former Skojevac reveals how he was personally involved in mass executions of men, women, and children in Slovenia. A portion of the victims was later discovered near Borl. SKOJ, the Savez komunističke omladine Jugoslavije (League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia), was a youth organization closely tied to the communist regime that played a key role in carrying out political purges. This testimony demonstrates that the violence was not a random aberration, but was executed systematically and ideologically motivated by members of this organization. (source)

Hundreds of Croatian children murdered in the Matjaž pit (one of the perpetrators hanged himself in front of the Matjaž pit in 1988) (source) Multiple eyewitnesses and local sources speak of children among the victims, sometimes in detail. Testis unus, testis nullus – one witness counts for none. But in times of war, truth is the first casualty, and whoever ignores thousands of witnesses becomes complicit in the silence. 

During his rule, Tito ordered massacres of Croats and openly declared his hatred for the Croatian people. These crimes continued even after his death. (source) 

Manda Vrljić, moeder van vier kinderen, werd in 1947 door de UDBA vermoord (bron). 

Manda Vrljić, mother of four children, was murdered by the UDBA in 1947) (source).

Zlatko Levarda saw 150 people being murdered (a mother stole her dead son's body to bury him) (source).

In 2010, another mass grave was discovered in Slovenia, containing 700 victims of the communists who were killed in a kneeling position with their hands tied behind their backs (source).

Google Maps displays the mass graves of Tito's communist crimes, click here 

Tito died in 1980, but his cult of personality and ideology remained deeply rooted in the Yugoslav education system for years to come.

After his death, he was still revered as the founder of socialist Yugoslavia. Children continued to join the "Pioneers of Tito", a youth movement similar to the Soviet Pioneers, where loyalty to the state and to Tito was central. Textbooks, rituals, and even public holidays remained steeped in his ideology well into the 1980s. It was only in the 1990s, with the breakup of Yugoslavia, that this symbolism gradually disappeared.

Lepa Radić: Courage in a Complex Time

At just 17 years old, Lepa Radić from Bosnia became a symbol of courage during World War II. She joined the Yugoslav Partisans, who fought against the Nazi occupation, and performed dangerous tasks such as transporting weapons and supporting the resistance. In early 1943, she was captured by German troops, but she refused to betray her comrades and bravely faced her execution. Her resistance posthumously earned her the honorary title "People's Hero of Yugoslavia."

The story of Lepa Radić shows that the history of this period is complex. Many Croats fought against the Nazis, sometimes alongside communist-led resistance groups, while the later communist regime itself also committed crimes. Figures like Radić remind us of individual courage amidst a difficult and often tragic history.

Frane Tente was a Croatian teenager who, in 1947, along with a group of friends, removed a communist flag from the Marjan hill in Split.

This act of resistance against the Yugoslav communist authorities led to their arrest.

Tente was severely mistreated, including being imprisoned, tortured, and placed in solitary confinement, which ultimately led to his death in Lepoglava prison.

His story has become a symbol of resistance and the severe oppression faced by those who opposed the communist regime in Yugoslavia.

The legacy of Frane Tente is remembered in Croatia, especially in Split, where murals and monuments honor his courage and sacrifice.

His tragic fate highlights the broader history of political persecution during that era and underscores the personal cost of standing up against oppressive regimes.

After World War II, the communist regime of Yugoslavia, led by Josip Broz Tito, continued to tighten its grip on society—even beyond national borders. The secret service UDBA (Uprava državne bezbednosti), founded in 1946, played a central role in this. What is less known is that the UDBA also waged a ruthless campaign against political opponents abroad.

Liquidations in Europe From the 1960s into the 1980s, dozens of Yugoslav dissidents in Western Europe were tracked, threatened, and in some cases murdered. The UDBA primarily targeted nationalist Croatian, Kosovar, and Serbian groups in exile. In total, the agency is held responsible for an estimated 200 murders and kidnappings.

A notorious example is the murder of Stjepan Đureković, a Croatian dissident and former director of the Yugoslav state oil company INA. He was shot dead in 1983 in Wolfratshausen, Germany. German justice later convicted two Yugoslav agents for involvement in this murder.

Operations under direct orders The liquidations did not happen independently. According to sources, order to murder was often personally approved by Tito himself. After his death in 1980, these decisions were taken over by party committees at the republican level. In 1964, a special department was even created within the UDBA that focused exclusively on eliminating opponents.

The Netherlands not excluded Cases of intimidation and surveillance of Yugoslav dissidents are also known in the Netherlands. Although no confirmed UDBA liquidations were carried out in the Netherlands, it is clear that the service was active here. Dutch intelligence services kept a close watch on the activities of foreign secret services, but protection was not always adequate.

Bruno Bušić – France, 1978 Bušić was a Croatian writer and nationalist living in exile. He was shot dead on October 16, 1978, in Paris. Although the perpetrators were never officially convicted, it is widely believed that the UDBA was behind the murder. His death led to major protests among the Croatian diaspora.

Đuro Zagajski – Germany, 1983 Zagajski, a Croatian emigrant and critic of the regime, was found dead in Munich on June 19, 1983. He was killed with an axe. The case was never solved, but here too the UDBA was named as the main suspect.

Nikola Štedul – Scotland, 1988 Štedul, leader of the Croatian Movement for Statehood in exile, survived an assassination attempt in Kirkcaldy, Scotland. He was shot five times by Vinko Sindičić, an alleged UDBA agent. Štedul survived the attack, and Sindičić was arrested and sentenced to 15 years in prison.

Stjepan Đureković – Germany, 1983 Đureković was a Croatian dissident and former top executive at INA, the Yugoslav state oil company. He fled to West Germany and published critical works about the regime. On July 28, 1983, he was murdered in a garage in Wolfratshausen. In 2008, former Yugoslav secret agent Krunoslav Prates was sentenced to life imprisonment by a German court. In 2016, convictions followed for Josip Perković and Zdravko Mustač, two high-ranking UDBA officials, for complicity in the murder.

The murder of Stjepan Đureković in 1983 remained unpunished for decades, until Germany began prosecuting several former UDBA agents in the 2000s. In 2016, Josip Perković and Zdravko Mustač were sentenced to life imprisonment in Munich. The case gained extra weight because Perković did not fade into the margins after Croatian independence, but instead assumed a prominent role within the new state: for years he served as a security advisor to the Croatian Ministry of Defense and had close ties to the political leadership.

When Germany demanded his extradition, Croatia initially tried to block it—leading to diplomatic tensions with the EU. The case sparked a painful debate about the entanglement of the post-communist state apparatus with its past, and the extent to which Croatia was prepared to face its own history.

Censorship and suppression of nationalism In the 1970s, the so-called Croatian Spring—a movement for greater autonomy within Yugoslavia—led to mass arrests, dismissals, and bans on publications. Hundreds of intellectuals, students, and politicians were prosecuted or silenced.

Day of Antifascist Struggle = Communist Massacres and Purges in Croatia

On June 22, the Croatian government, together with those who call themselves anti-fascists, spent that unfortunate public holiday celebrating—or rather commemorating—the so-called Day of Antifascist Struggle in the Brezovica forest (near the city of Sisak). There, former communists, now anti-fascists, claim that the First Partisan Resistance Detachment was formed 80 years ago. This was the resistance movement opposed to the Croatian struggle for independence, although they try to convince people that their struggle and resistance were aimed against the German and Italian occupation of Croatia during World War II. This detail is crucial in the current political crisis in Croatia, because former communists/Partisans continue telling everyone that they liberated Croatia in May 1945, when in reality they fought for and ensured that Croatia remained within Yugoslavia—which was naturally not desired by the vast majority of the Croatian population!

We can therefore say with certainty that this Brezovica event marks the historical beginning of the communist takeover through resistance to Croatia's independence from Yugoslavia, which led to the establishment of the oppressive communist regime in Yugoslavia in 1945.

The Brezovica gathering on June 22, 2021, sponsored and attended by the top leadership of the Croatian government led by Prime Minister Andrej Plenković and Croatian President Zoran Milanović, is an occasion on which the Croatian people should actually commemorate the tsunami of oppression, tyranny, political persecution, mass murder, and purges unleashed by the communist regime after World War II. The majority of the Croatian people remember that painful and dark calamity on that day, but they do not attend the gathering in Brezovica on June 22. Those who do attend shamelessly glorify the communist ideology—which murdered hundreds of thousands of innocent people and later even slaughtered its own supporters en masse to cover up its massacres—and call that communist ideology anti-fascist!

The massive scale of communist crimes and atrocities in Croatia (in former Yugoslavia) has been documented by historians and others, especially after 1991, when Croatia embarked on a path toward independence from communist Yugoslavia. More than 1,700 mass graves of victims of communist crimes have been excavated, with 1,000 in Croatia alone. New mass graves continue to come to light, demonstrating the horrific depravity and brutality with which those "anti-fascists" murdered innocent people, as well as those who fought for an independent Croatia, a Croatia liberated from Yugoslavia.

One would think that after the victories in the 1990s during the Croatian War of Independence, after defending against brutal Serbian and Yugoslav aggression, after thousands of lives lost for independence, and after immeasurable destruction, losses, and ethnic cleansing of Croats from their homes, the lesson of this terrible history of communist crimes against Croats in former Yugoslavia would have been learned. After all, this terrible history was part of the reason why on June 25, 1991, following the referendum in May in which 94% of Croatian citizens voted for separation from communist Yugoslavia, the Croatian Parliament voted to begin the process of seceding from Yugoslavia and its other republics. The injustices of communism were not limited to mass murder alone; patriots who desired an independent Croatia and were fortunate enough to survive suffered severe oppression, including violations of freedom through political imprisonment, loss of freedom of speech, freedom of religion, property rights, and the right to work…

A cruel irony seems to be playing out in Croatia: the country defended itself against communist attack in the 1990s, achieved victory—only to be relentlessly hunted on its own territory by the same enemy of the people and democracy, communist ideology, with increasing force!

Last year (2020), the Croatian Prime Minister stated on June 22 in Brezovica that "the victory over fascism was a prerequisite for building a democratic Europe." That is indisputable. But Plenković forgot to mention that the communists were not part of that democratic Europe. After all, communist Yugoslavia between 1945 and 1991 was far from democratic and free.

This year (2021), Plenković spoke on June 22 in Brezovica about the terrible post-World War II communist crimes against Croats (who fought for and wanted Croatia's freedom and independence), yet he still unblinkingly celebrates that post-war communist regime (which he and like-minded individuals have called anti-fascism for decades now) along with the Partisans and their symbols and insignia! He too dares to claim that communists/anti-fascists in WWII fought for Croatia's independence. They did not!

This year, Plenković offered only a superficial acknowledgment of the communist (anti-fascist) crimes committed after WWII against Croats who fought for true independence of Croatia during WWII.

"Also, regardless of the mentioned merits of the Croatian partisans for the establishment of the Federal State of Croatia—which prevented the unitary organization of Yugoslavia in which Croatia would have had no borders of its own—it is time to view these turbulent times in all their complexity. I am thinking here primarily of the post-war crimes of the Yugoslav army following the surrender near Bleiburg, namely the mass executions of disarmed soldiers and civilians along the Way of the Cross, especially in Slovenia and Croatia, which remains traumatic for many families," Plenković stated on June 22, 2021, in Brezovica.

"Just as the crimes of the Ustaše and Jasenovac cannot be justified by anything, neither can the mass execution of defeated armed forces and often innocent people be justified. This not only cast a shadow over the anti-fascist movement, but also deepened the malicious divisions in post-war Croatia. Post-war purges of political dissidents such as the persecution of Blessed Cardinal Stepinac—even though he was one of the bravest clergymen of the Catholic Church in Europe, who in his sermons publicly condemned the persecution of Serbs and Jews and saved many from death. Here, finally, I think of the establishment of the totalitarian regime of Yugoslavia that betrayed the ideals of many Croatian anti-fascists, which unfortunately happened again after the crushing of the Croatian Spring (1971)," Plenković continued.

And so we must ask ourselves: why does the Prime Minister of Croatia and his government continue to celebrate the communist regime, whose ideology was the linchpin of more crimes and murders than the Ustaše regime in WWII ever knew!? Why does he say that the communist regime betrayed the ideals of many anti-fascists with its crimes, yet fail to say the same for those who fought for Croatian independence during WWII? Why does he support those who want the greeting "Za dom spremni" (Ready for the Fatherland) banned in Croatia, while not standing behind those who want the Red Five-Pointed Star and Partisan/Communist Yugoslavia greetings banned!?

The answer to the above questions is clear through his actions and those of his government, as well as those of the country's president, who defend communist (their anti-fascist) ideology at every turn instead of facing its darkness, as 94% of voters did in 1991. This will likely not happen; they will not accept the darkness of the ideology that they and their families stood behind, participated in, and benefited from for decades, and as a result, the standard of living and democratic processes in Croatia continue to decline.

Therefore, they must be voted out in the next election! To make that happen—to vote those bastards out in the next election—the silent majority who do not vote (because, through experience with the power machine of former communist Yugoslavia, they believe they cannot change anything) must go to the polling stations. The alternative, namely unrest in the streets, might ultimately yield results, but it simply would not be pretty.

Unfortunately, due to the heavy media bias against the government's opposition (patriotic parties, right-wing parties), effective opposition parties cannot do what they need to: spread their message and mobilize voters. Croatia continues to struggle with the same problems as under former communist and socialist Yugoslavia—opposition to the government cannot function properly because they are not allowed to broadcast on state media or in corrupt mainstream media. Suppression of the voice of reason, truth, and justice continues in Croatia. It is no coincidence that practically every communist regime quickly suppressed opposition parties after taking power, and that is now happening in Croatia as well. Fortunately, we live in the so-called digital age, and communication, including media, is not limited to what governments own or bribe. But we also live in an era where new ways are possible to outsmart government-controlled mainstream media. For that, of course, good resources are needed.

The better we learn the painful and terrible lessons from the history of post-World War II communism (in Croatia and in former Yugoslav communism, now called anti-fascism), the greater the chance that we can avoid a repetition of these horrors in Croatia.

Ina Vukic (source)

Ina Vukic is a respected psychologist, publicist, and fierce advocate for Croatian independence, both humanitarily and politically. She combines professional integrity with a deep commitment to history, democratic values, and human rights.

Although Croatia has been a parliamentary democracy since 1991, many citizens feel that an invisible power is still active behind the scenes: a network of former communist officials, secret service personnel, and their descendants who occupy key positions in the judiciary, media, and government institutions. This structure is often referred to as the "deep state"—a "state within a state" that is not elected, yet exerts influence over policy and decision-making.

A harrowing example took place in 2020, when Danijel Bezuk, a 22-year-old young man from a family of Croatian war veterans, attacked the government building in Zagreb with a firearm and subsequently took his own life. His act stemmed from deep frustration over what he viewed as the systematic humiliation of war veterans and the heroes of the Croatian struggle for independence, while perpetrators of war crimes and corrupt figures in power remained unpunished. Young people, especially those raised in veteran families, thus visibly carry the psychological burden of a system that seemingly applies justice and respect selectively.

A similar tragedy is the case of Darko Štimac, a war veteran who set himself on fire in June 2024 in the square in front of the Croatian parliament. His act of desperation was intended as a protest against what he perceived as a corrupt elite still holding the country in its grip. The media, largely controlled by these same networks, downplayed his motives and portrayed him as unstable.

Critics point out that many top positions in the judiciary, public administration, and even academia are held by people with direct family ties to the former communist regime. This "red aristocracy," according to them, is responsible for the lack of transparency, the absence of justice for crimes of the past, and the frustration of reforms.

Although the existence of an organized deep state is difficult to prove, the pattern of appointments, court cases, and media control points for many toward a structural problem: the democratic facade is being undermined by a power that has never truly disappeared.

The scars of war, ideology, and oppression run deep, and because a full confrontation with the past has never taken place—no lustration, no national reconciliation ala South Africa—old tensions continue to endure in a new guise.

The front lines now run through media, courtrooms, political appointments, and even school curricula. Who determines the narrative? Who is remembered, and who is forgotten? For many Croats, it feels as if they are still fighting—no longer with weapons, but with words, laws, and symbols.

As long as the past is not addressed, it will continue to dictate the course of the present.

The song: Since the seventh century 

Some already thought: they will be here no more.
They could not even hide their joy.
They wanted to scatter us, so that fewer of us would remain,
And they will say: "They were never here."
Let the stranger gnaw away; he will never know the people,
Without a language, a people can no longer know happiness.
The children of the people will not know their history,
And on their own soil, Croats will no longer be Croats.

Those who write their history in solid stone,
Their past can never be erased by anyone.
They are mistaken, for that is not how we think,
What is defended with blood is not so easily surrendered.
Those who write their history in solid stone,
Their past can never be erased by anyone.
We have been here for a long time; everyone must know,
This is our land; Croats live here.

Through hard times and fierce battles,
We honourably defended our hearth and home.
Our ancestors guarded this land of our birth,
They did not die in vain for freedom.

But look, now the dawn is breaking once more,
After many years, Croatia is awakening,
Here on our soil, our flag is waving,
Red, white and blue — no longer hidden...

...Upon the hard stone, the words can be read:
"Since the seventh century, Croats have breathed here."

Nikola Tesla's own words reveal that he was proud of both his Serbian heritage and the Croatian land where he was born. Tesla was known for his aversion to nationalism and division. The exclusive appropriation of his identity by either side ignores his own perspective and the complexity of his background.

Tesla (like Novak Djokovic, the vegan) lived according to his ideals and even helped reduce animal suffering by abstaining from meat. His life and philosophy stand as symbols of intelligence, peace, and unity.

In this collection of Croatian songs, I offer you a brief introduction to the soul of a people. From the plains of Slavonia to the Dalmatian coast, Croatians sing about their love for their homeland, family, traditions, struggle, loss, and hope. The sea often plays a central role: as a lifeline, as a metaphor for freedom, but also as a silent witness to homesickness and longing.

This deep sense of connection with the sea is not unique to Croatia. Closer to home, in the Dutch province of Zeeland, for example, the coast evokes similar emotions. Think of the song Aan De Kust (Along the Coast) by BLØF — a song that, for many people from Zeeland (and those who have spent a lot of time there), feels like an ode to their own little corner of the world. The melancholy, the pride, the tranquillity, and the untamed power of the water: these emotions prove to be universal, whether you come from Split or Zoutelande.

Through YouTube and brief translations of excerpts from the songs, you will gain a glimpse into the themes deeply rooted in the Croatian heart. These songs are not superficial hits — they are stories. Poetic, painful, proud, and pure.

...Here I am happy, where I hear the girls singing their songs,
I lie in the shade of an oak tree,
drink cold water from the spring,
beneath the window where the girls are singing,
the tamburitzas are playing.

Where that little lamp is burning,
where the well creaks,
there my soul will find its final resting place.
There lie my happiest days,
where I love the village festivities,
the evenings, the spinning wheel, and fiery rakija,
and where every village knows my name.

There, the sun kisses the fields,
there is my one and only home,
where the bones of my ancestors
sleep sweetly in their dreams.
I cannot put it into words;
I could not breathe anywhere else.
I would die of sorrow
if I could no longer smell the grain...

I respect everyone,
but I fear no one
except God,
for He is the reason I exist,
the reason I am who I am,
the reason I am proud of your name.

An unconquered city
stands at the gateway to Croatia.
Too many have died too easily,
too many mothers have wept.
For too long, this paradise
resembled hell on earth.

They burned our forests,
but we planted them again.
They destroyed our homes,
but we rebuilt them.
They killed my people,
but we remained on our land
to defend our home,
because we love our home
and remain faithful to it.

When Mother Slavonia calls her falcons,
this song will echo once more.

Love what is yours,
wear your colours with pride.
The Slavonian heart is beating,
rakija flows through my veins.

Because I love my people,
this festive ode rings out
for the sacred land of my ancestors,
for it was paid for in blood
while we dreamed of freedom...

I stand on the threshold of Croatia's gate.
They are calling you, they are calling you,
plains of Slavonia —
come to Vinkovci!

Sude mi (They Judge Me)

...And if my brothers had betrayed me,
They judge me,
Because I love what is mine
More than anything else.
Because I defended those dear to me,
They judge me.
The enemies, my beloved,
But they do not know that the truth
Is as deep as the water.

Oh, my dear children, my noble branches,
Listen carefully to what I say.
Oh, whoever does not love and protect what is theirs
Shall never see the face of God...

...Then came the 1990s.
His father said, "Now or never."
And Mato left, as if waking from a dream,
With nothing, but with a big heart.

That winter, they murdered his brother,
Burned the village and took the horses away.
They found his father a month or two later,
Broken by immeasurable grief.

And me, it is as though I can still see him:
Trotting back with the horses from the watering place.
The village talks, but Mato doesn't care;
He only drives the horses faster.

Ride on!.......

At a funeral, three hundred tamburica players gathered to honour one man. For more fascinating facts about the country, take a look here 

The claim that foreign "safari hunters" paid to shoot civilians in Sarajevo has sparked widespread horror. Now DAVID JONES reveals the growing evidence that it really DID happen.

Scanning for targets through his telescopic sight, he appeared at first glance to be one of the many Bosnian Serb army snipers who peered down at the besieged city of Sarajevo from abandoned apartments.

But to the man tasked with observing these snipers as they carried out their deadly work — an American spy who had infiltrated their nest — there was something unusual about this cold, ruthless marksman.

He was wearing green hunting clothes rather than a military uniform, and his powerful rifle was neither a Serbian-made Zastava semi-automatic nor a Kalashnikov: the types of weapons commonly issued to snipers in the Bosnian Serb armed forces during the war.

As a trained intelligence officer, the secret agent — a Slovenian national who spoke to me this week under the alias Piskotek — judged from the sniper's face, expensive equipment and "arrogant" demeanour that he was probably an Englishman from a wealthy background.

That assumption became "90 per cent certain" when he heard the man speaking in measured tones to the soldiers who had escorted him to the front line.

It was the winter of 1993–94, and the daily barrage of sniper fire and shelling — which by the end of the 44-month siege would claim the lives of more than 5,000 civilians, including 1,601 children — was in full swing.

By then, Sarajevo's estimated 400,000 inhabitants, trapped in a city whose steep hills had turned it into a deadly shooting gallery, had refined their tactics for crossing the most exposed streets. They zigzagged as they ran, diving behind walls and cars.

But for some, there was nowhere to hide, and eventually the "Englishman" pulled the trigger.

Through his binoculars, Piskotek watched the male victim, several hundred metres away, fall to the ground.

It was not the first time he had witnessed a killing at close quarters. Having gained the trust of the Bosnian Serb high command, he says they allowed him to inspect their front-line operations in Sarajevo around 35 times between 1992 and 1994 — perhaps to show off their stranglehold on the city.

During that time, he claims, he saw "eight or nine" foreign visitors who had been given permission to shoot at men, women and children trying to carry on with their lives under conditions later described as "medieval" by a war crimes court.

Alongside the Briton were a Canadian, a Russian, an American and several Italians. They had not come because they believed in the Bosnian Serb cause. Indeed, they apparently had no interest whatsoever in the rights or wrongs of the war.

Nor were they mercenaries. On the contrary, they appeared to be wealthy and influential hunting and shooting enthusiasts who had paid enormous sums of money to experience the "adrenaline rush" of tracking down and killing another human being.

When the story of these so-called "Sarajevo safaris" was revealed just days ago by Italian investigative journalist Ezio Gavazzeni, it sent waves of horror around the world.

My own initial reaction was that it had to be the sickest form of fake news.

Having reported on the horrors of Srebrenica, where Bosnian Serb soldiers separated 8,372 Muslim men from their families and marched them to their execution, I had already caught a glimpse of the limitless barbarity of this Balkan war.

But the idea that someone would shoot a stranger for "sport" defied all comprehension.

Astonishingly, however, there appears to be evidence that these most horrific war crimes really did take place.

And after listening to the Slovenian "Piskotek" — now 61 and retired, but still, he says, afraid of being murdered because he has seen too much — as well as other compelling witnesses in Sarajevo, I am beginning to believe the unthinkable.

Gavazzeni, a respected chronicler of Mafia crimes, has no doubts.

His two-year investigation was prompted by a harrowing Croatian-made documentary called ** Sarajevo Safari **, released in 2022 but shown only to limited audiences.

Although the film briefly sparked outrage after its premiere at a Bosnian film festival, it was subsequently ignored by the authorities — possibly because they feared that investigating the allegations might reignite the remaining tensions between Serbs and Muslims.

No sniper — military or otherwise — has ever been identified or held accountable for killings during the siege.

But the film prompted former Sarajevo mayor Benjamina Karić to file a criminal complaint against the as-yet-unknown perpetrators of these "safaris".

And this week's revelations have prompted Bosnia's state prosecutor to approach witnesses with the aim of launching a formal investigation.

Yesterday, it was also announced that Alessandro Gobbis, a Milan public prosecutor, would begin taking witness statements next week, with Serbia's current president, Aleksandar Vučić, named as a suspect.

Now 55, Vučić served as a volunteer in the Republika Srpska army, and a Croatian journalist claims to have evidence that he was stationed at one of the positions where the "safaris" allegedly took place — a Jewish cemetery on a hill overlooking the city.

It has even been alleged that the president himself took part in shooting civilians, and archival footage appears to show him holding a sniper rifle.

Vučić denies this, claiming that the object in the footage was an umbrella.

The Italian writer's files have also prompted action in Washington, where Republican congresswoman Anna Paulina Luna has pledged to track down any Americans who may have participated, and in Milan, where prosecutors have opened a criminal investigation.

Gavazzeni tells me he has hard evidence that "hundreds" of foreigners took part in these sinister safaris during the siege, and that he has identified some of them.

He refused to reveal their names to me, but they are alleged to include:

• An Italian medical company owner

• A banker

• A racing driver

"They won't sleep easy in their beds," he says ominously.

He also intends to expose the organisers of these hunts — those who flew clients to Belgrade, sometimes using the now-defunct Serbian private airline Aviogenex, which operated flights between Belgrade and the Italian port city of Trieste during the war, before transporting them to sniper positions around Sarajevo.

The writer claims these "safari-goers" shot their victims as coldly as big-game hunters on the African savannah, paying as much as £200,000 for a weekend of "shooting".

But his most astonishing claim — corroborated by the Slovenian spy and other witnesses I have spoken to — is that the hunters were given a price list assigning different prices to targets, much like the "Big Five" on an ordinary safari.

Children allegedly commanded the highest prices because they moved quickly and were harder to hit.

Perhaps because children in Sarajevo were often difficult to get into the sights while running to school or doing errands, they were considered the most coveted trophies, and the organisers therefore demanded the highest fee for shooting a child.

To understand the mindset of people who eliminated little boys and girls without the slightest hesitation, Gavazzeni spoke to a forensic psychologist.

"The conclusion was that these were privileged people who had everything they needed in life and were looking for a new form of excitement," he says. "They wanted to experience the power of killing another human being, knowing they could get away with it and return to their normal lives. For them, that was the ultimate thrill."

For those who lived through the siege — the longest and most brutal of modern times — allegations that outsiders took part in the mass murder of innocent people, intended to destroy morale and hasten the surrender of the Bosniak army, are nothing new.

In 1992, the ultranationalist Russian writer and politician Eduard Limonov accepted an invitation from Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadžić to fire a machine gun at the city below them. Limonov was said to have paid for this "privilege", and the incident was even captured on film.

Towards the end of the war, newspapers in Croatia and Italy also reported the alleged presence of "weekend warriors".

Further evidence emerged in 2007, during the war crimes trial of Bosnian Serb army commander Ratko Mladić. Former US Marine John Jordan, who had been wounded by a sniper while working as a volunteer firefighter in Sarajevo, testified that "tourist shooters" had paid to snipe alongside the Serbs.

"I saw personnel on more than one occasion who did not appear to be local, judging by their clothing, the weapons they carried, and the way they were escorted," he told the court.

"When a man turns up with a weapon that looks more suited to hunting wild boar in the Black Forest than fighting in urban warfare in the Balkans — and you can clearly see that he is a novice at moving through rubble — you know enough.

"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a duck."

If Jordan's recollections were largely based on assumptions, Edin Subašić, who served as an intelligence analyst with the Army of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, came to me with evidence he had documented and which he believes is now gathering dust somewhere in a military archive.

In November 1993, he says, he was asked to assess evidence gathered during the interrogation of a captured enemy soldier: a 20-year-old recruit who had been captured a day or two after arriving in Sarajevo, having accidentally wandered into territory held by the defenders.

The young prisoner said he had travelled from Belgrade overnight in an army bus, which had stopped along the way to pick up five Italians.

They had arrived at the rendezvous point in "limousines", dressed in "high-quality hunting clothes" and accompanied by military police.

On the bus, they drank heavily and appeared to be in a celebratory mood. Using his limited English and Serbian, the recruit tried to strike up a conversation with them to compare their earnings with his own meagre military pay.

Three of them cheerfully admitted that they were on a "human safari" and had paid large sums for the opportunity to shoot at the Bosniak defenders.

Fearing that he had uncovered a "new phenomenon on the battlefields of Sarajevo that threatened the lives of civilians", Subašić tried to verify the prisoner's statements by speaking to frontline soldiers.

When that proved unsuccessful, he brought his concerns to General Mustafa Hajrulahović, commander of Sarajevo's defence forces.

He also met with the leadership of SIMSI, the Italian intelligence service, with whom he had good relations.

Several months later, the Italians assured the general that they had "neutralised" the "source" of the safaris and that they would not happen again.

Subašić understood this to mean that they had tracked down the organisers and possibly arrested them. And with that, the matter was closed at the time.

Today, however, the anger and shame he felt when he discovered that wealthy men regarded Bosnians as "animals to be hunted for entertainment" still burn in the eyes of the now 62-year-old.

Despite the obvious risks, he is willing to testify at any future trial. He says that another eyewitness — someone who worked for a humanitarian organisation in Sarajevo during the war — has already contacted him.

Another person willing to testify is Mirza Ustamujic, director of Sarajevo-based energy and engineering company Energoinvest, who posted his evidence on Facebook.

In October 1994, when he was 13, he and two friends were wounded in the legs by sniper fire — an atrocity that was filmed and later shown during the trial of Serbian wartime leader Slobodan Milošević.

What the judges were not told at the time, he says, is that a few days before the shooting, Bosniak soldiers fighting close to enemy lines had found a batch of safari price lists. They handed them to his father, who designed trenches for the defence army, and he brought them home.

"They were printed in black lettering on small, square pieces of brown paper," Ustamujic tells me, tearing off a Post-it note to demonstrate their size. "The prices were listed in German marks, and there was a choice of weapons on offer."

At the time, it was assumed that the Bosnian Serbs had distributed these flyers through the streets as part of a "monstrous psychological trick", he says. But "after everything that is now coming to light — documentaries, investigations, testimonies — I find myself wondering: was it the absolute truth?"

It is a question that will haunt the thousands of families who lost loved ones during the siege.

At a memorial centre in Sarajevo, where grieving parents comfort one another amid a moving collection of childhood mementoes — worn-out trainers, old toys, a dented violin — I meet Senada Dodik.

Now 67 and marked by grief, she shows me photographs of herself as a young mother, enjoying happier times with her late husband, Dragan, and their son, Damir, and daughter, Daniela.

She places these photographs on a table beside images of Damir, aged 17, lying beside his blue bicycle on a road in the city centre. Four UN doctors wearing blue helmets are kneeling beside him.

While on his way to a friend's house, he was executed with a single bullet through his heart on a Sunday in June 1995. The gunshot wound was so precise, Senada notes grimly, that not a drop of blood had fallen on the asphalt.

She and Damir shared a "special bond", she says. She remembers how, amid the dust and rubble, he managed to find red roses and make a bouquet for her birthday, just three weeks before he was killed.

Since the war, she has been trying to discover the identity of the man who pulled the trigger.

"I just wanted to look him in the eyes, perhaps even smoke a cigarette with him, and ask him: why?" she says.

But her search proved fruitless. Murders like this were so commonplace at the time that no investigations or inquests were conducted.

The perpetrator disappeared into the shadows.

Before our meeting, Senada had not heard about this week's revelations concerning the safaris. When I tell her — very carefully — why I have come to Sarajevo, she falls silent and looks at me with an expression I will never forget.

I interpreted it as a mixture of emotions too profound for words: perhaps shock, horror, revulsion and contempt.

"I cannot believe that anyone could do this for pleasure," she finally whispers, staring at the last photographs of Damir. "To look at a child through a scope and simply kill him. My mind cannot comprehend it. It is not human."

It is not human.

And yet it increasingly appears that, throughout four shameful years, under the watchful eyes of Western intelligence agencies — in the supposedly civilised heart of Europe — this uniquely depraved activity may have been allowed to continue unchecked.

See photos and source: Daily Mail