The translation was done using Google Translate. Since my English skills are somewhat limited, I cannot rule out the possibility of translation errors or linguistically incorrect expressions. Please forgive me for these errors.:
The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Index:
- Chapter 1 - April 4, 1992, somewhere on the border between Serbia and the Republika Srpska
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Zorans rape squad - english version:
Blue
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Preliminary note: During the Bosnian War between 1992 and 1995, according to official estimates, at least 20,000 women, most of them Muslim Bosnians, were raped and often subsequently killed. Other sources even estimate up to 50,000 victims.
These figures show that rape in war still plays a role today. The reasons and motives for this are various. The following story attempts to explain some of them.
The story itself is written primarily from the perspective of the perpetrators and contains little or no description of the victims' feelings. And in some places, it will become very violent. But the few publicly known factual accounts from some victims go far beyond that.
Everyone should be aware that this story, despite its proximity to a real event in world history, is pure fiction. However, similarities to living or dead persons cannot be ruled out.
And: the author does not condone any violence against women in reality, regardless of whether it is physical or psychological. Even though he wrote and published this story, he does not identify in any way with the acts described in it.
Zorans rape squad
Chapter 1 - April 4, 1992, somewhere on the border between Serbia and the Republika Srpska
Zoran put the radio down. He had been speaking for more than half an hour with Željko Ražnatović, better known as Arkan, the leader of the paramilitary Serbian Volunteer Guard (also called "the Tigers").
It was supposed to start tonight. After repeated minor skirmishes between the Serbian militias and the Bosnian troops in recent weeks, the major assault on Srebrenica was now about to begin. The Serbian attackers intended to besiege and capture the Bosnian city. At the same time, other Serbian troops and, in particular, several paramilitary units throughout Bosnia, but especially in the border area between Serbia and Bosnia, were to begin expelling the Bosnian population from the country.
At the end of March 1992, the Bosnian government proclaimed the Serb-dominated Republika Srpska. And the very next day, the first expulsions of people of non-Serb origin took place. Fighting between Bosnian Serb fighters and the Yugoslav People's Army on the one hand, and the Bosnian Croat militia on the other, intensified.
Arkan and his Tigers played a special role in the conflict. They had begun expelling the Bosnian population from the territories claimed by the Serbs right at the beginning of the fighting. And they acted with particular brutality. The Tigers did not shy away from robbery and murder, and numerous rapes of Bosnian women were their fault from the very beginning.
Zoran was the commander of a 30-man Tiger subunit. His squad had been camped for the past few days in the immediate vicinity of a farm on the Serbian side of the border. The farmer belonged to the Serb ethnic group and supported the efforts to expel the Bosnians wherever possible.
The squad had parked several vehicles in the nearby forest. In addition to their commander's car, a nearly new all-wheel-drive Mercedes G-model, the vehicles also included a kitchen and a medical vehicle. A jeep equipped with a machine gun and a light armored personnel carrier rounded out the fleet.
Zoran called Milan, his second-in-command.
"Tonight we'll finally get going. Gather the men, and then I'll explain our orders to you."
Milan set out to assemble the troops. After a few minutes, everyone had gathered inside the fort, which consisted of the troops' vehicles.
Zoran stepped in front of his troops. In a loud voice, he explained to his men the orders he had received from Arkan.
"It will begin tonight. While the official Serbian troops will attack and surround Srebrenica, several paramilitary units will simultaneously ensure that all Bosnian residents are expelled from their homes, first here in the new Republika Srpska. Arkan's troops will be tasked with clearing the border area. We have been assigned a section approximately 30 kilometers long. In this section, our task is to expel all Bosnians. How we do that is entirely up to us. And most importantly: what we find belongs to us!"
Zoran's men respond with loud cheers. They had spent most of the last few days, which they had spent doing nothing here, cleaning and maintaining their weapons. They had played cards, drunk alcohol, and imagined how they would expel the Bosnians from their homes. And now it was finally about to begin!
There were no villages in the area they had been assigned, just a few isolated farms, mostly farmed by Bosnians. Among the instructions Zoran had received, he had also been told which of these farms were inhabited by Serbs. These, of course, were to be exempted from the cleanup.
"We'll leave promptly at midnight. Our first target is about 5 km east of us. We don't need to sneak up on them. On the contrary, the residents should hear us coming. Our only task is to banish the farmers. If we find anything valuable, it's ours, and we'll divide it fairly among ourselves. The farm itself, and especially the livestock, will remain undisturbed; they will be taken over and taken into the possession of our allied farmers. Any more questions?"
No one answered.
Zoran turned to Milan. "Make sure we're ready to march by midnight. From now on, there will be no more alcohol for the men. I want us to be fully operational when it starts. Even if it's just a few small farmers we're supposed to drive away. But maybe that will prepare us for bigger tasks."
Zoran turned around and disappeared into his tent to prepare for the march. He didn't have much luggage to carry, and his men would take care of taking down his tent.
At exactly midnight, the troops were indeed ready for action. The men had lined up the vehicles in a small column. The jeep with the machine gun drove in front. Then came the crew car, carrying 10 of the guerrillas. After that came the commander's vehicle. And then two light vehicles, each with four men. At the very rear of the column were the kitchen and ambulances.
Zoran gave the order to move with a hand signal. The engines were started, and then the convoy set off.
The journey to the nearest farm took only about 30 minutes. The convoy arrived just outside the building, traveling along bumpy forest and field paths. It was a relatively small farm. Grain and corn had been sown in the surrounding fields. From a stable, the faint mooing of cows could be heard, presumably awakened by the engine noise.
There was no sign of the residents. The yard windows were dark, and nothing moved anywhere.
Zoran gave a few orders. Immediately, powerful headlights, mounted on the front of the vehicles, were switched on. With their headlights on full blast, the vehicles drove toward the farm and formed up in a semicircle.
Milan, who had been sitting in the machine gun car, divided the men. While some of them, armed with rifles, patrolled the courtyard, a handful of them, carrying submachine guns, rushed toward the courtyard's entrance door. They effortlessly kicked it open and shone powerful flashlights inside.
"Clean!" shouted the two men who had gone ahead and illuminated the hallway of the house. The rest of the squad immediately followed, spreading out among the ground floor rooms.
When they found no one there either, Milan pointed his weapon upwards. Three men immediately rushed upstairs with their submachine guns at the ready. And it wasn't long before they dragged an elderly, terrified couple down the stairs. The woman wore only a nearly floor-length gray nightgown, while the man wore striped blue pajamas.
Meanwhile, Zoran had also entered the house.
"Are these all you found?" His men nodded. Apparently, the elderly couple were the only residents of this farmstead.
In Serbian, Zoran explained to the two of them why they were there. That they were to ensure that all Bosnian residents left the area. Alive or dead, that was entirely up to them.
Zoran knew they understood him. Here in the border region, all the residents grew up multilingual, so they certainly had no problem understanding him.
The couple standing in front of the soldiers turned pale and began to tremble. They asked what they had done wrong. They had lived here for decades and had never had an argument or trouble with their neighbors.
"You're Bosnians, that alone is enough. You have a choice: either you get out of here, just as you are. Or my men will beat you!"
Zoran had spoken in low words. But they left no doubt that he meant it.
The woman whispered something to her husband. He seemed to summon up all his courage as he asked, "May we at least take the bare essentials with us?"
Milan, who had also come into the house, laughed. "Didn't you hear what our leader said? You get out of here immediately, or..." His threat remained unspoken, but the slight movement of his weapon suggested what lay behind his words.
Trembling, the couple took each other's hands. With shuffling legs, they left the farm that had been their home for decades. In the middle of the night, they headed south, where there were settlements predominantly inhabited by Bosnians. Perhaps they could find refuge there. But what would actually await them there, neither of them could have guessed.
Zoran watched the two until they disappeared into the darkness of the adjacent forest. Then he nodded to his soldiers. "Okay, look around and see if you can find anything valuable. Who knows, maybe those two old men have hidden some money or jewelry somewhere. But no destruction, you know the orders!"
Immediately, his men poured out and searched every single room. They turned everything upside down, even looked in the basement and the stables. But apart from a handful of worthless jewelry and some money in small bills and coins, there was nothing to be gained here. There was truly no loot to be had here.
After Zoran reported the situation over the radio, the group set off for their next destination. The estate, also about 5 kilometers away, was apparently considerably larger than this miserable hut. And, in addition to the owners, a handful of farmhands and maids were supposedly staying there.
End of chapter 1
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