13

The Croats were 'ethnically cleansing' an area called the Krajina. It was a Serb enclave within Croatia. The Serb were fleeing in whatever transport they had, heading for Belgrade. The Croat authorities had closed down the main highway heading south-east from Zagreb to keep people away. There were reports of Serb refugees being pulled from the convoy and killed or beaten at the roadside. After international pressure, the Croat authorities had provided police officers to escort the refugees. I headed towards the town of Kutina where I planned to turn west and try and meet up with the convoy. Other cars on the road were often Serbs with everything they owned packed inside their cars.

In the small village of Popovaca I reached what the Croat police believed would be the end of my journey. The Sisak road, and hopefully the refugee convoy, were just a few miles ahead. Blocking my way was a Zastava police car, it's blue light spinning, pulled across the road. The one police officer was dealing with the first car of half-a-dozen lined up. Mostly, these were just local people trying to get home and he was probably just advising them of the best alternative route before they continued. When I drew up, the cop dramatically stepped back in shock, seeing the left seat empty. Then, he realized the car was right hand drive and he walked around to my side of the Volvo. We had a very limited conversation which ended in him telling me in no uncertain terms that I should drive back to Zagreb immediately.

One side of my brain was working on the conversation, but I was also working out the risk of just 'blowing' through the roadblock. I doubted the radio in the police car would be able to communicate with the military. He would have to radio his dispatch who would then have to telephone the military who would then have to radio the soldiers with the convoy. I figured I'd have ten minutes 'lead time' before anyone with the convoy would know. My flak jacket was in it's usual spot on the passenger seat so if the policeman opened fire, things would go bad very quickly. But he was armed with just a 9mm automatic handgun, not a Kalashnikov. Hitting a fast moving car with a handgun wasn't going to be easy. I hoped he wasn't the Croat police's marksman...

I told the cop, and made a hand gesture, that I would 'turn around.' The police officer agreed and stepped back. I planted my foot on the accelerator and the Volvo flew down the Sisak road. I didn't look back. I just hunched down in the seat waiting for the 'crack' as a 9mm bullet smashed the back window. But it didn't come. After a mile, I glanced at the speedometer, which showed 90mph. I came over a rise in the road to see two armoured vehicles, barb wire entanglements and a row of mines across the road. I pushed the brake pedal so hard I swore it would go right through the floor of the car. When I eventually came to a stop, the front bumper was over the row of mines.

A soldier walked forward and examined my UN and Croat identity cards, he shouted something to the other soldiers and they pulled the mines back, moved the barb wire and backed the armoured vehicles up. Ten minutes later I met the front of the refugee convoy.

Once the convoy had passed, I packed my gear into the car and headed towards Sisak where I would swing north towards Zagreb. In a small village I came across a cart abandoned by the fleeing Serbs. It was being looted by two small children, one about to run off with her goods and another still in the cart searching for anything of any use. As I opened the car door, Nikon camera with a Tamron 200-400mm lens attached, a shout went up from a couple of locals. I don't know if they were warning the kids or trying to get some people to 'see me off' but I grabbed a quick picture and left.