EVIL DEEDS, PART II, Chapters 31-35

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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sergeant Bruto Drobac and six of the soldiers from Bromidivic’s unit stayed just inside the treeline around the clearing. A layer of morning mist, like a low-lying cloud, moved by a slight breeze just over the tops of the tall grass. About to radio an “all clear” message to Captain Bromidivic, Drobac saw a flash of light in the grass near the middle of the clearing. He signaled his men to drop to the ground and took a pair of binoculars from a pouch hanging on his web belt. Slowly, patiently, he swept the binoculars across the clearing where he’d seen the light. 

There! While the breeze played with the mist, he saw movement in the grass. He focused on the spot but nothing moved for two minutes. Then Drobac’s breath caught in his chest. A greasepainted face filled his vision. More motion. Two more men shifted in the mist.

Garcia adjusted the tiny radio receiver in his ear. He stared at his watch. The choppers were two minutes late. Then he jerked toward a harsh whisper from one of his men. The man hissed: “Armed men at three o’clock.”

Garcia spoke into his radio mic. The Marines reacted as they’d been trained to do – positioning themselves to lay down a devastating field of fire against the intruders.

A deadly stillness covered the valley. Garcia felt his heart pound. He’d seen where the intruders had dropped behind the valley’s natural cover. What he wasn’t sure of was how many men were out there, or what sort of support they had. Were the men across the field Serbs or Albanians? He searched the sky again for the extraction choppers. But he knew they weren’t there. He’d hear them before he saw them.

Then a voice from the opposite side of the field broke the quiet. “You Americans, we have you surrounded,” a man somewhere in front of them said in broken English. “Stand up. Throw down your weapons and put your hands on your heads.”

“If we stay here, Lieutenant, we’re dead,” Bob said. “They’ve got us pinned down.”

“No shit, sir.”

Bob pointed behind their position. “If we can get into those rocks, at least we’d have some cover. The morning haze will help hide us a bit as we move. In another fifteen minutes, though, the sun will burn it off.”

“How do you propose we get over there without getting shot?”

“Do any of your men speak Serbo-Croatian?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Let’s confuse these guys a bit.” Bob told Garcia to shout What do you want? pretending to be Serbian.

“What if those men aren’t Serbs?” Garcia asked.

Bob shrugged and said, “Then we’re up the creek.”

Garcia frowned at Bob, shook his head, and then yelled, “Shto trebash sa nama?”

Garcia’s use of Serbo-Croatian seemed to surprise the man to the left of the Marine’s position. After several seconds, the man said, “Trazimo Generala Antonin Karadjic. Ko zi se?

“Oh, shit,” Garcia whispered to Bob. “Serbs. They’re after Karadjic.” He yelled back at the voice, again in Serbo-Croatian, “We’re a Serb militia unit that’s been raiding in Albania.”

The voice came again, loud, angry. “Surrender then! You have nothing to fear from us. We’re Serb soldiers.”

Bob asked Garcia, “What did he say?”

“He wants us to surrender.”

Garcia look back at the rock formation Bob had pointed out to him. “Get ready to back up into those rocks behind our position,” he radioed his men. Then Garcia shouted at the Serbs, “We left our equipment behind us in those rocks. Give us a minute to gather it.”

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