Field of Blackbirds - Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (me reader txt) 📗

regroup, rearm and fortify. He wanted to unburden his mind; his heart. He wanted to confide. But the General didn’t know of his son’s revolt against Michailo Pec and Nikola. He knew nothing of his transfer to infantry, let alone, his and Lazar’s unsanctioned quest of gallantry, indubitably chased by bitter recourse. How could he tell his father that he was on his way, but that hell was following him? Radenko had always leaned on his father as the voice of reason and truth. But for now, he could only inquire about his well being and express his love and loyalty, loyalty to God and family, loyalty to the finest qualities, loyalty to Sasia and the web she had spun around them.
Radenko dialed his home in Visegrad, but was advised by a generic recording that the number was no longer in service.
Surely a product of the attack, Radenko reminded himself.
What he hoped, was that Petrovich was caring for his father. On the second ring, Radenko heard the firm but friendly voice of his uncle.
“Zdravo, Petrovich speaking!”
“Petro, its Radi”
“Radi, are you okay?” inquired Petrovich.
Radenko realized they must have been worried sick.
“I’m fine. It’s good to hear your voice.”
Radenko heard Petrovich yell into the background, “It’s Radi! I told you, you had nothing to worry about.”
“Petro, is my father with you?”
“Yes Radi, he was released from the hospital two days ago. Where have you been? I’ve called. I’ve even been to your apartment in Prystyna.”
“It’s a long story, Petro. I’ll explain it to you when I have the time. Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s going to be okay Radi. He wants to talk to you.”
Radenko had never been this nervous to talk to his own father. He had so much to say, but the delivery had to be handled with care.
“Radenko?”
There was something so distinctive in the way the General said his name. It was old-fashioned and resoundingly honest. It was comforting to Radenko.
“Dad, it’s good to hear you’re okay.”
“You sound far away, Radenko. Where are you?”
“I’m in Bosnia, outside of Zvornik, on a pay phone.” answered Radenko.
The General sounded confused. “When did you leave Prystina?”
Radenko promised himself he wouldn’t go into detail. “I left the court room. The company was more than I could bear.” admitted Radenko. “General Pec found a spot in the infantry for me. I’m alright with it.”
“That’s not where you wanted to be, Radenko.” the General rebuked.
“I know dad. Things change, but enough about me. I want to know when you’ll be back to good health. You’ve got an Army to command.”
“Radenko, your father is an old man. I have served Montenegro for forty-six years. I am the last of the Tito era. I can’t keep up anymore. I’m tired. The Nation would be better served by the younger aggressor, one who understands the ideas and needs of the New Greater Serbia. I think it’s time to be relieved of my post. I haven’t even had time to enjoy the mountains we live in. There are rivers and lakes I haven’t fished yet. I have to build a new home.”
Radenko glanced over his shoulder long enough to see Lazar replace the fuel nozzle on the pump. Lazar drove the jeep over to where Radenko was standing and began studying a map. Radenko faced the booth again.
The General went on. Radenko didn’t want to hear any of it. His father was being pushed out and he wasn’t even putting up a fight. The attack intimidated him. He was throwing in the towel in the last round. Radenko knew what he was about to say would bring him grief, but he couldn’t remain silent.

“Dad, the integrity of the army is hanging by a few threads. You are one of those threads. You are the voice of Montenegro. We’re fighting with Serbia but we’re also independent. You are the last proof. If you retire, you’ll be replaced by a Serb General. You’re right. You are the last of the Tito era. Do you know what that means? You carry the last banner. Forty years of peace. And you’re going to let Milosevic make a fool out of Tito. You’re going to let guys like Michailo Pec burn your banner, our banner. Dad the Kacak Resistance wouldn’t travel to the mountains of Ivangrad. Did you investigate the scene? Were they low grade RPGs? Or were they military grade rockets?”
“Enough, Radenko! Do you know what you’re implying? Do you know what kind of top level conspiracy you’re speaking of? My son, this is lunacy.”
“Dad General Pec wants you dead. I’m sure of it. I’ve gotten to know what kind of people they are. Why does Montenegro have to be involved in the ravages of Slobodan Milosevic? He is a tyrant. Mihailo Pec, Nikola Obilic, they’re all tyrants. Please stay in the fight with me, Dad. I think about Mom all the time. The things she told me that morning. Good men must resist tyranny. Let’s restore freedom and peace to those we love and the country we love, even if the odds are often hopeless with little possibility of victory.”
Radenko wasn’t even sure where he found the words. But it was the message he wanted his dad to hear. That he was finally engaged in a just cause. There were few people in life that possessed the finest qualities of the human spirit. Radenko felt an adoring need to be one of them. He knew his character had been measured in the devil’s cauldron. If he only had a teaspoon of honor, he hoped it would lessen the taste of bitterness that was sweeping through Yugoslavia, the same bitterness that was eating away at his friend. Radenko looked over at Lazar, nodded to him. Lazar nodded back. Radenko knew he didn’t have the wisdom or maturity to counsel the General the way he did. He knew it was mostly out of desperation, desperation for a way off the path they were on.
“I love you Radenko. You are your mother’s son. I have been blessed to be surrounded by great men in my life. I can say that you have joined the ranks. But be careful, Radenko.” advised the General. “I am not prepared to suffer any more losses.”
“Will you wear the uniform for one more year, Dad?” Radenko begged.
“I will wear it as long as you do, Radenko.” the General promised.
Radenko was satisfied with that.
“Dad, we’ve gone through a lot together, since I was only a boy. I’ve never told you how spirited and courageous you’ve been. The last fifteen years you have been without your Sasia by your side and yet you have moved through life as though she were cheering you on. It means so much to me. I just wanted you to know that. You’ve been a great father to me, and a great leader. Every young man would have an honest shot at greatness, if they only had a father like mine. Thanks Dad, thanks for always being there. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, Son. Thank you for those kind words. The pleasure of being your father is mine.”

Radenko heard the dull clad of the phone meeting the table. He heard Petrovich ask if he was still on the phone. He could barely hear the General’s exhausted voice, “I’m worried, Petro.”
Petrovich picked up the phone.
“Are you still there, Radi?”
“I might have to deposit another twenty-five dinar, but I’m still here, Petro.”
“Come see us when you can. Your father can make some phone calls if you’re in trouble.”
“For now I have an obligation to my Corporal, but I’ll come as soon as I can.” Radenko promised.
“Okay Radi! I want you to know that Anjia is taking care of your father when I am away at work, so don’t worry about him. You take care of yourself!”
“Okay Petro, Zdravo!”
“Zdravo Radi!”
Petrovich hung up the phone.

Radenko reclaimed his position in the passenger seat, “I’m ready when you are, Corporal.”


Chapter 24 – Against All Odds


Refugee Camp outside Srebrenica, 1992

Milla wanted so badly to scream as loud as she could. Fear raced through her body, recklessly plowing over walls of safety and comfort. It was stalking her, breathing over her, ready to sink its fangs deep into her skin. She had to act quickly, but Sofi was all she could think about. Milla couldn’t imagine what they would do to keep the little girl quiet. She threw the covers off Sofi and stood her up. Confused, Sofi began mumbling. Milla pressed her fingertips softly against Sofi’s lips.
“You must be quiet, Sofi.” she whispered. “Please listen to me. You must run as fast as you can and hide in trees. I promise I’ll come for you.”
Sofi nodded her head but gently let her emotions slip when she looked over and saw the men trying to get in. Milla glanced over and noticed the knife had snagged on a seam which graciously afforded them more time. Quickly, she untied the flap on the other side of the tent and faced Sofi toward the woods.
“Run Sofi!”
Milla turned around. One of the men already had half his body in the tent.
“Nice and quiet, nobody gets hurt.” The men were cackling and growling like a pack of hungry dogs. An awful stench had already filled the tent. The smell of alcohol, campfire and body odor was nauseating and repulsive. Frantically, Milla searched for anything she could use for protection. She grabbed a pot in one hand and a fork in the other. The first man slithered toward her, wielding his knife. The second followed.
Towering over her, one of them barked “You got what’s coming to you Muslim whore. There’s no way out.” The other man cheered him on by adding, “Yeah and you better give it to us easy.”
Milla adjusted her grip on the pot. Her hands began to sweat. She swung the pot upward at his head. He raised the arm with the knife,