Good soldier Vojka

- You are mobilized - Mira said in a voice burnt by cigarettes, somewhat shyly, as if she was declaring me guilty of something terrible.

Everyone was standing around looking at me. Anchi from the secretariat materialized at the door from somewhere. She knew, like the others, and that's why there was silence: they were waiting to see how Mira would tell me. Ljubica's eyes were already full of tears. I had no thoughts, no solution. I could no longer face new situations. Well, I don't even have lunch and it's Easter, when I'm going to get to the church, and I still have to undress.

- Don't tell me anything more. I have to take one pill and go buy some coffee. Who wants coffee? - I spoke distractedly.

My hands shook as I took my wallet out of my purse. I was trying to catch some air, and gain in time. I'll compose myself a bit while Nena is making coffee upstairs on the third floor, I'll go up to the third floor and go down to the first floor, then I'll pinch myself, maybe I'm just dreaming after all. We need to regain our voice.

- Do you want me to bring you coffee? - said Ljubica carefully.

– No, let me, I'll do it.

Nothing clever, except for the fear that gripped me and the image of some underground channel where journalists are sitting, I couldn't come up with while buying coffee. In the meantime, Goca, who is on the program, arrived at the desk. She came to check how the announcement went and how I was doing. Then Mira began to explain:

- Vojce, I tried to call one of the principals and prevent you from leaving, but I didn't succeed. The one who called from our defense and protection even at one point started yelling at me that I was arguing with him. I asked him why he is taking people who are actively working in the field and let them invite someone from the First Program.

- I didn't want to receive anything over the phone, and then he told me that I had to write down the message. Hey, you know how I cried when I heard. You know, they wanted to mobilize me too, they need a typist, and we barely managed to explain to them that I'm not a typist - added Ana.

- Don't worry, you will have company there. There you have Boyka, Keva, Lila, there is Kozlica - someone said.

- My Dragan is there, too - added Vesna, who seemed to be the most knowledgeable about Tamo.

- Bring warmer things, some warm boots, a hat is a must.

I knew where we were going was a secret, and I didn't even dare to ask if anyone knew where it was There when they told me to bring a warm hat. At that moment, that There seemed to me like some underground corridor or bunker.

– I'm going to get dressed.

– Now, let's start editing.

I went to studio fourteen, and told Mile Pilet in disbelief that I had been mobilized. I needed to say that out loud to someone. I tried to call Miskić, no one answers the phone. I'm worried about how I'm even going to tell him. How will he react, how can I leave him alone? So what will he eat, who will he talk to, and I will be safe there in some bunker, and he will stay here surrounded by bombs. How can I explain to my mother that I'm being mobilized, but I don't actually know where I'm going and what my obligations are? My thoughts were interrupted by Miletus' voice:

- Vojka, you have nothing recorded here.

I went downstairs and told Mira that the tape recorder didn't record anything and that I was going to the Second Program to ask them to lend us the recording, because they were also at the same press conference. Those present at the desk, listening to my daily work sentences that I say at such a silly moment, let me maintain the illusion that "nothing is happening to me and no one is bombing us". I went to Dragan Babić, the editor-in-chief of the Second Program, to ask him for a recording. I also told him that I was mobilized. He tried to smile:

- It doesn't matter, you'll have fun there in the hotel.

- In what hotel, I was mobilized! - I rebelled.

- Oh, well, you'll be kidding yourself there - Babić was persistent in an attempt to give me at least a little optimism.

I left him, even more confused about where I was going, and where that place was. I handed the tape to Mira, and begged her to come back immediately after dubbing. I took my coat and nervously started turning around, as if gathering my things. In fact, I took a long time to say "goodbye" and "goodbye" to them, I knew that the tears had already exceeded the measure of my eye sockets and were about to start. My colleagues turned their heads and pretended not to notice my preparations to leave. I lit another cigarette, mentioned once more that the tape should be returned, and was at the door in a second. Everyone jumped up, words of consolation began, short and unconvincing even to those who uttered them. No one could look at me, my departure completed an already overflowing portion of pain, uncertainty, sadness and fear. I flew out into the corridor. Ljubica ran after me and said:

- Egg, you forgot the egg, I brought it for you too. There is one green left. If I had known, I would have kept the red for you - she said and the tears flowed.

Anchi came running from the secretariat all in tears, and began to kiss me. I was no longer brave, and I could not control myself. I cried, then took the green egg from the editorial office and walked down the hall without looking back. In a low voice, I said "goodbye" to our porters, and found myself in front of the Radio building. (That huge building that one evening looked so powerful and pompous to my mother, who was proud that her little daughter was working in it. That night she forgot all the sacrifices she had made as a parent and forgave me for not continuing to play the piano but decided to I will be a journalist for Radio Belgrade.) The Radio building, at the moment when I was moving away from it, did not seem so big and powerful at all. I didn't want to be a hero, I didn't want to do journalism anymore. I wanted to be a housewife in a washed house dress, with fluffy children and a pot of stew on the stove. "Well, I don't even have sneakers," ran through my head. "I don't even have a sports jacket, it's not my style of clothing." What shall I dwell in there?"

***

It's Easter, and I didn't go to church! I decided to go to our church, Aleksandar Nevsky, and headed down Cetinjska Street, trying to think of something. I couldn't think of anything clever to take my mind off it for a moment. "The church will give me a break," I concluded and entered. There was hardly anyone in the church, even though it was a big holiday. "Maybe there's an air raid going on," I thought. After all, it doesn't even matter. I prayed for all of us, for health and life. When I lit the candle for my father's soul, I spoke to him in a low voice: "Dad, I was mobilized." Take care of me, I'm going now."

Zoran was repairing the car, completely disinterested. With a light step, or rather a floating one, I approached him and said:

- Miškić, I was mobilized.

- I know, some fool called me, she was looking for you. I had a fight with him - he said, and he was simply relieved that we told each other that.

I dialed my mom's phone number and told her that I had been mobilized, whatever that meant. She tried to comfort me with a story even though she was scared. I cried and told her not to worry, I was mobilized and nothing could comfort me. She listened to my outburst of anger over the phone, and tried to find out where Tamo was. I explained to her that it was a secret, and that I wasn't going to find out where that place was until they took me away. Most likely, I won't be allowed to tell her where I am even when Tamo gets its name. I complained to her that I didn't have Easter lunch, and that I wasn't capable of preparing it. Motherly advice on what to do and where to go for lunch followed, but she soon realized that she had not given me the solution I needed. We hung up. Zoran entered, holding a car part in his hand, with a worried expression on his face, as if we were going to travel to Paris tomorrow and our car wasn't working.

- I told him 'you are strong when you mobilize women', and he told me, his mother, 'we have a free bed in the women's room'. To his mother, I say to him 'what kind of war strategy do you have when you mobilize according to the principle of a free bed?' When he brazenly says 'comrade, you talk a lot'. I then told him "what if she is in a different state", to which he replied "well, she isn't". I think to myself 'it's not, when I didn't remember to tell you it is, so you check it later'.

- I'm hungry, let's go to your Slavica's to eat - I suggested.

- Well, sit at home. Where do we go now? She's just going to be shaken, I won't even tell her anything. Everything is on the line anyway, because Dulet was asked to be mobilized for Kosovo immediately after the closure of B92 - replied Zoran. And the decision was made, we will put the chicken and potatoes in a baking bag, then in the oven. Without a set table, and Easter cake.

When some bad things start happening to us, we automatically erase them from our heads, and later, when reconstructing the event, we find that some pictures and parts are missing. That afternoon, evening and night of April 11, 1999, I persistently suppressed reality, and today little of that day remains in my head, if I except the fear and love that I received and gave more than usual. Bombs fell that night as well. Just that night, I listen to airplanes and follow the news from my armchair. I'll be there tomorrow. Zoran and I agreed on some basic passwords, assuming that I wouldn't be allowed to say anything over the phone. When he asks me how I am, if everything is fine, I will answer with 'how is Malko' (that's the name of our dog), and if he is terrible, I will ask him 'how is Chupko' (the name our elderly neighbors gave our dog). . To us it will mean shaggy and fucked up. Everything was packed, some of my things, some of Zoran's. Since I didn't have a sports wardrobe, Zoran promised me that he would buy and send me sneakers later. For now, I have to wear "salamander" shoes for the partisans.

***

At exactly 10 o'clock we were at Takovska 10. I entered the room where someone was sitting whom I was supposed to call. He seemed to me like a good-natured guy. Strangely, I didn't feel the need to yell at him, or at least be a little arrogant. I gave my name briefly. He received me with a smile, as if he were a member of a moderately successful company that is currently giving out gifts for March 8, just to find me on the list. He found me.

- You are going to MOB 2, you know where it is - the benevolent guy addressed me.

- I don't know anything, they just told me to call room number 2 - I answered.

- Do you have a military card with a war schedule?

– I don't have one.

- Good, you will get it. Your commander is Mirko, there are many of your colleagues there, you will see that it is not bad. You are located on Kosmaj.

God, how did he tell me all this. It's like I'm a student who has changed schools, and to whom the secretary of the new school explains the class in which he will continue his education.

- Good, and when do I leave? - I asked.

- Sit in the corridor, a welcome will come and take you there.

- Okay, I'll be in the foyer with my husband.

- Please, I know that you will now tell your husband where you are going, but don't spread the word.

I'm going to Kosmaj, my commander's name is Mirko, I think he's the one who follows motoring on TV. I still had the hope that something would change, and that this big mistake (which, no doubt, is my coming here) would somehow be corrected.

Zoran and I were sitting regretfully on armchairs in front of the television reception when I had an attack. I wanted to inform everyone from Dvestadvojka that on my way to television, passing by Radio, I saw my editor-in-chief getting out of his car and passing me without saying hello. As if it's normal for his employee to walk around with a travel bag during the bombing, as if he wasn't the one who said that I could fill that empty bed in the women's room. That morning, I also passed by the haustor where Ćuruvija was killed the previous day. I couldn't and didn't want to think about that. I managed to find some colleagues from the editorial office and, as a prosecutor, confessed the story of how the editor-in-chief accompanied journalists to the war. At that moment, it was very important to me. And later, when I'm there on my bench thinking about what these guys are doing in Belgrade and whether they're moving every night, it will also be very important to me.

In the armchair next to me, a girl of my age was sitting half-ass and with a sad expression on her face. And she had a travel bag. She was a make-up artist, and she was waiting to go to Zlatibor in mobile unit number 1. That's when I learned that the word MOB is actually an abbreviation of mobile unit, and the number 2 stands for order. I also noticed a man with a travel bag, I thought he was familiar to me from Radio.

Zoran constantly tried to calm me down, told me that I would probably return home soon, to take care, to keep warm, to eat regularly. Not to politicize too much, because there are spies everywhere. That I don't show much that I know the job, because I will be blamed for everything. On that occasion, he told an anecdote from the army, which of course I had heard before, with the message that anyone who shows that he knows how to do it ends up getting screwed. He was nervous, I haven't seen him like that since my father's death. He advised me to coldly request a leave immediately, considering that my birthday is in five days. And again he got angry with himself for not telling her that I was pregnant, maybe that would have saved me.

– Vojka Pajkić! - someone exclaimed. Someone tall, terribly tall to me in an olive vest.

I jumped not knowing what to say. "Here", "present!", "I am"? Zoran jumped as if someone was calling him out for shooting. I didn't know how much this man loved and cared for me until that hour.

- Let's go. Who is Mickey? – asked the face in the olive vest.

- It's me - said a man with a travel bag, whom we suspected was waiting for the same thing as us.

- The van is in front, get in, we have to hurry to Kosutnjak first, so that you, Vojka, can get the booklet - said the face, looking at Zoran suspiciously.

We followed him to the van. Zoran only shouted, but he really shouted: "Be careful, what can I tell you!" Be careful!” He managed to say it three times in a row, and our parting was over.

***

- So, you two are new - the van driver addressed us. - Just so you know, you fucked him.

- Munjo, are you there too, or are you just driving us? – asked a colleague.

- What are you talking about, son. I've been there for you since the beginning. They immediately mobilized me - answered the driver very significantly, or rather the rally driver. An Italian taxi driver drove me like this in Udine, when I went with my parents to our friends Maria Rosa and Dino.

We were silent until Kosutnjak. Maybe I would have dared to ask something, but I didn't dare from the one in front in the olive vest, who seemed to me more terrifying than a NATO bomb. The procedure in Kosutnjak lasted a short time. I gave them my ugliest picture, I wanted it to be in one such document. A tall man came, and we headed for the van. My colleague and I had to huddle together now, because inside there were several large cans of food, bread in crates and heads of cabbage. We stopped at Autokomanda for them to take over something. The van was parked right next to a grocery store with fruit and vegetables, juice cartons and beautiful yellow bananas peeking out. I wanted those bananas. And I liked them, and they didn't. If I buy them, I thought quickly, I will prolong the feeling of living normally and that 'nothing is happening to me'. Although I'm not really a fan of bananas. But now I really have to buy them. Only, how can I ask to go out and buy this yellow fruit. I found some strength and asked a question to the tall man.

Today, I no longer remember if he said anything, I only know that there was no precise answer, but some kind of tacit approval. I ran to the store and ordered a kilo of bananas, as if I could buy more tomorrow if I wanted to. The payment took a long time - I rummaged through my wallet and rummaged through my entire bag, but I didn't see the money because of fear, uncertainty, lethargy, fatigue from a sleepless night. I wanted to return the bananas. I started looking for money again, and in a moment I thought that all this was a bad dream that lasted too long, that I would wake up and realize that there is neither there nor bombs. Finally, here is the wallet. I pay and leave, the van starts. There is no awakening, but a white van and the road to Mount Kosmaj. I have never been to that mountain, although I have heard about the Kosmaj partisan detachment. I had no idea that one beautiful, sunny day in April, instead of going for a walk, I would go with the partisans.

On one part of the road, an army could be seen.

- You are silent, you don't have a pass - snapped Munja. They know us.

Only then did I notice that he and the tall one had some kind of green plastic bag around their necks. I don't know when they took it out and hung it up. Soldiers, a ramp, several trucks and campervans introduced me to another world.

The arrival of the van in front of the Kosmai hotel brought great joy to its residents. Everyone somehow jumped up and started bringing out those buckets, bread, cabbage, and some bags that I hadn't noticed until then. I took my things; a colleague did the same. We headed inside, to the hotel. "So it's not some underground bunker" was running through my head. "Wait, maybe this is all just camouflage." The tall one ordered us to wait in front of the hotel desk while he informed headquarters that he had brought us. That's when my colleague and I finally met. We said our first and last names, and cursed, just to begin with. Here is the tall one again, escorting us to the headquarters. The headquarters is actually a small room on the ground floor of the "Red Star" hotel, where we have just arrived and where we will spend a good part of the war. I bet that room before our arrival was intended for the head of personnel. We executed the familiarization order.

- Your arrival here is a strict secret. We are sent here by the state to do our duty when necessary. The work process is very simple for now: you will follow the news from radio and television and record it, and at the same time you will also follow the news from Tanjug. Military discipline reigns here. You have the right to call your home once a day for two minutes. Đorđević will assign you where you sleep - Mirko, who follows motoring on television, addressed us with a military voice and demeanor.

Who is this Đorđević? It didn't take me long to realize that it was the tall one, who was actually in charge of supplying our newly formed war community with food, and later with cigarettes. We met again in the corridor in front of the counter. Colleague Miki went to see who was there from the famous until Đorđević solved our sleeping problem. I stayed there to stand and think, that is, to be silent for a moment with myself. I wanted to see who was there from Dvestadvojka, and to meet the new war mix.

- Vojka, you sleep in room 33 with Duda the editor. Look for the key on the counter, and go to settle in - the tall Djordjevic said then.

The key wasn't on the counter, and I didn't care. I didn't know what to do with myself after the words I heard in the headquarters, and who is that Duda anyway? Look at that technician with the tail, what was his name? Deki suddenly appeared and took me to the room where my radios were kept. He explained to me that we have to type slowly, because the company in room six is ​​doping to survive last night's displacement. And other things. Knock, knock…

I hear some commotion, then a slow-motion "free". I enter the room, where behind a small table and two joined beds I find Boyka from the news station, Lila, who has been on the First program for a long time, Keva, and that blonde announcer from the First. As surprised as they are by my entering the room, I am also surprised by their looks and the indignation with which they shower me. Lila approaches me first, hugs me and asks:

- Why did they send you here?

- I don't know, they told me that there is one free bed in the women's room, and that I have to come - I answer confused.

- They probably sent you in my place, because I'm going home. Couldn't they have sent a man, motherfucker? - said Lila indignantly.

- Sweet sister, you fucked him. We're hiding here in the pool - Boyko told me with a kiss.

- What pool? - I ask in disbelief.

- Sit down child, do you want something to drink, we have a good "Mukodin" - said Lila. Seeing my questioning look, Keva joined the discussion:

- That's the name of the alcohol we smuggle here. Boykin Mića figured it out, since nothing of that kind can pass here. And you will learn about the discipline that I don't know what it is for. You know, Mica also put a bottle of "Mukodin" in the package he sent to Bobby. She wondered if he was crazy. It is true that she is ill, but what will syrup do to her. Until she opened it and realized that there was whiskey inside - she ends the story with a laugh.

- Let's tell you right away, you fucked him. But if you feel like crying, feel free to cry, that's normal here. Well, last night I said "I'll go to the terrace to cry" - explained Lila.

- Who is Duda the editor? - I finally asked.

They started to praise Duda, then we again cursed the one who arranged for me to come here, Keva then showed me the leg that she "scanned here" and for which she was going home, and since lunch time was approaching, we parted with the intention of see you soon at the restaurant.

I knocked god-fearingly on the door of room number 33. No one answered. The door was unlocked, and I entered the room. Someone was lying on the bed under the window. Slowly, on tiptoe, I lowered my two travel bags. The person, whom I was told was Duda the editor, slowly opened her eyes.

- I am your new roommate. Keep sleeping - I said quietly.

(To be continued)