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May 10, 1999

THE SERBS

Torn by War, a Town Works to Recover


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    By STEVEN ERLANGER

    PODUJEVO, YUGOSLAVIA -- Three months ago, Milos Savic was frantic. He had been stopped at a checkpoint by the Kosovo Liberation Army close to this northern Kosovo city and dragged out of his car at gunpoint. The fear ravaged him, he said, and he lost nearly 40 pounds.

    When he met a foreign journalist then, Savic said he was afraid that the last Serbs would be pushed out of Podujevo, a 95 percent Albanian city about five miles from the border with Serbia proper.

    Today, in his cafe across from the Podujevo municipal building, Savic says he's feeling better, even as NATO airplanes circle and bomb in the hills to the west. The rebel checkpoints that began less then a mile from the city center are gone now, pushed back by the Serbian offensive.

    The regional headquarters of the armed rebels in the hills around Lapastica, where a commander called Remi used to hold court for foreign journalists, is also gone, leaving only small groups of Albanian guerrillas fighting partisan actions in the hills farther north and west, around Bajgora.

    Many of Podujevo's ethnic Albanians are gone, too, and Savic, when asked, expresses some hopes that more of them will return. Wearing his wartime civil defense jacket and civil defense cap -- blue with earflaps -- Savic, a simple and essentially decent man, says he is trying to help remaining Albanians, especially the elderly, to buy bread and provisions.

    But Savic also remembers "the first night that NATO bombed, when the Albanians were in the streets cheering and shooting guns into the air to celebrate," he said. "The Serbs didn't call in NATO, but the Albanians did, and now NATO kills them as well as us," he said. "We didn't need NATO, and look at what they're doing to all of us."

    He described how a friend and neighbor, Dragan Bubalo, was killed in a NATO cluster bomb attack on a village called Merdare near here, blown off the road in his Ford Sierra. This reporter had visited the scene a few hours after the attack and remembered the car and its bloodied interior.

    "I had to go to the hospital to identify him," Savic said. "I washed his body and shaved his face and I buried him." Bubalo was single, and Savic visits the dead man's mother, Mica, nearly every day. "Her husband is dead and she has no more sons," he said. "She's crying and yelling every day."

    Of course the Serbs would defend Kosovo, which belongs to them, he said with bravado. "It is our house, and the Albanians were welcome to live there, too. But it is not their house, and we are not going to give it away."

    The resentment of Podujevo's Serbs toward the Albanians was mounting three months ago, and it burst forth in a week of violence after the bombing began on March 24 and ethnic Albanian guerrillas attacked policemen in the town, killing 10 people, said the town's mayor, Milovan Tomcic. There were "heavy battles" between the Kosovo Liberation Army and security forces along the main roads and in the hills to the west along a 20-mile front toward Kosovska Mitrovica, he said.

    The police and the army brought the situation under control, he said, but not before Podujevo was practically emptied.

    "There was shooting in the town and a lot of panic," Tomcic said. "Serbs and Albanians fled. There were less than 100 people in the whole town -- just some officials and old people who couldn't run away."

    There is evidence of that anger in the town, with many Albanian shops and houses burned and looted. Spray painted on some of the shops are slogans, like "Serbia -- we aren't leaving," and "You asked for it."

    But between 55 and 60 percent of the 70,000 ethnic Albanians of the municipality have returned, Tomcic said, including villagers who had fled to the higher mountains while Serbian authorities "cleaned the villages of the terrorists," he said.

    Part of his task now, he said is to get flour, oil, bread and potable water to the villagers.

    Tomcic, an economist who became mayor in September 1996, is an angry man, but keeps a flat, even tone with a NATO-country journalist. He is convinced that Yugoslavia is being bombed unjustly by a Western world that is siding with the Kosovo Liberation Army, which he said had killed 1,000 Serbian policemen and civilians in 1998, and had laid plans that he said were found recently in its conquered headquarters to take control of Kosovo and kill Serbian men "from the ages of 3 to 70."

    Asked if a journalist could see such documents, he said it was impossible, that these were military documents.

    The West seemed to think the rebel group was not an army "but some kind of humanitarian organization," Tomcic said sardonically. "But it was a military force, and it is now destroyed and disbanded, except for some small groups of three to five people who appear somewhere to hit our forces. But their area for maneuver is smaller and smaller."

    Tomcic is especially angry at the destruction NATO bombing has caused to bridges, highways and water, electrical and communications systems, as well as to warehouses for food and fuel needed for transportation and agriculture. "The damages are enormous, unbelievable," he said. "There are no phone lines. There is no media. There is no way to address the people. We can't get food to them or water or diesel for farming. And just now the most important thing is to save the people, to give them enough food and medical protection, to avoid an epidemic."

    The municipality is preparing vaccinations against dysentery, hepatitis and typhus fever, he said. "Summer is coming, and there is not enough clean water."

    At the same time, he and other officials insisted, the Yugoslav Army is well dug in and is suffering comparatively little damage. "Fixed targets like barracks and warehouses have been hit," Tomcic said. "And they have hit decoy tanks and artillery pieces. But the main damage is to ordinary people."

    Tomcic believes that what has been broken here can be mended, so long as the bombing stops and the rebels remain suppressed. "Even if all the powers of the world attack us, the Albanians have to realize that the problems of Kosovo must be solved with the Serbs," he said. "The Serbs and the Albanians here have to decide how to live together -- day by day, point by point. I think it was a terrible mistake that the Albanians listened to some in the West, and a year ago, with their help, tried to solve the problems here with weapons."

    In his cafe, Savic, wears his civil defense uniform to wait on tables while he chats with his newly confident customers, all Serbs. "This is a tragedy for all the people," he said, as the planes flew overhead.

    "It's always like this in a war. There's killing and bombing and terrible things, and in the end, someone has to make a peace between us."




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