THROUGH RAIN AND WATER, BETWEEN RIFLE AND MACHINE GUN BULLETS, ON THE EDGE OF FREEDOM

BANJA LUKA, APRIL 29 /SRNA/ - Ilija Ivanović, who as a 16-year-old boy managed to save his life in the breakthrough of the Jasenovac concentration camp, points out in his book "Witness to Jasenovac's Hell," that in early April, the Ustashas began mass destruction of evidence, demolishing parts of the camp, burning the bones of victims and documentation in order to cover up the atrocities.

The portal srpskanational.com publishes excerpts from the book, testimonies about the events of April 21 and 22, 1945:

I was outside the building. The fire was opened at us from all guns and bunkers. Many killed and wounded, and the road around the building is covered with dead bodies. The Ustashas are hitting fiercely. For a moment, I glanced at the building I had just left. The camp inmates are getting out through all exist and through the windows on the ground floor. Lots of them fell under the deadly gunfire from the bunkers.

I am running towards the exit, where the camp inmates are fighting to open the gate. To the right, at the road inside the camp, the inmate Mile Ristić fires from the machine gun. Next to him is a dead Ustasha. Now Ustashas also have to be careful. While I'm running, I keep telling myself: "He won't hit me, he won't hit me, he won't…"

I am consoling myself. I hope. I am passing the gate. There are lots of dead and wounded. I jump over them, walking across the dead bodies. I am at the road. To my right, there is the Sava River, deep, cold. It is full of inmates - one head next to another.

I am running and thinking: If I jump to the Sava, I could drown. The wounded could pull me down. I see the space for swimming, it's limited. No, I don't want to go to the water! I decided to run to the forest, but I still have to get there. It is a kilometer away, and there is a meadow in front of it, an open space. If I get to the woods, I'm safe. I keep repeating silently: "He won’t hit me!"

My sandal strap broke and I was left barefoot. I threw away another sandal as I ran so it wouldn't obstruct me. The bullets were singing a deadly song, and the rain was falling. And it was a good thing it was raining, I thought. Maybe the Ustashas would give up the pursuit in this weather. I was in the meadow. From the nearby bunkers, the Ustashas were trying to cut us off, but their firing squad was sparse. There were few of them, and we, although many had died, still outnumbered them.

In front of the advancing group of camp inmates, the Ustashas fled to the right and left. One of the bravest remained in the direction of the prisoners' charge, intending to stop us. The group ran straight at him. He kills one, then another. He couldn't do it anymore, he got his deserved punishment. The camp inmates simply ran him over. I got the impression that they didn't even stop. He paid dearly for his courage.

Exhausted, hungry and until this morning powerless prisoners have turned into lions that tear with their bare hands. We have reached the forest. There are about fifteen of us in the group. We run further. When we went deep into the forest, someone shouted: Stop, stop, people, let's agree where we are going!

We stopped and gathered. We were kissing each other. We were free. The rain was easing a little, it was stopping. It was gloomy, it was hard to orient ourselves. Shots were still echoing in Jasenovac. People, now former camp inmates, prisoners, as they called us there, suggested where to go. I kept quiet and waited. A brief debate ensued, there was no unified position. They showed us with their hands where to go. All directions were represented, but no one extended a hand back towards Jasenovac.

This lasted for a short time, until one man, irritated by the disagreement, started running forward and we all ran after him. After about fifteen minutes, we emerged into a clearing and were met by rifle and machine gun fire. Some fell without a sound.

We probably ran into the outer and the last barrier with which the Ustashas guarded Jasenovac. We scattered in all directions and fled into the forest. A young man is in front of me. He runs fast. I shout; I call out to him. I feel that I cannot keep up with him. I am afraid of being left alone. He does not turn around; he just runs forward. I keep an eye on him and follow him, but the distance between us increases. We ran like that for a long time until we reached a meadow.

The distance was constantly increasing. I tried to call him again, but my efforts were in vain. I increased my speed. No results. In front of us was the Strug River. My fugitive was some 100-150 meters ahead of me. He was wading through the water and crossing, and I followed him.

The meadow disappears. The forest again. He enters the forest that hides him from my view and by the time I reach the edge of the forest, he is nowhere to be seen. I can't see him anymore. I continue in a straight line, hoping to catch up with him somewhere. I am completely wet. What the rain didn't dampen, the Strug did.

I emerge into some meadows again, but now I'm alone. A terrible shiver shakes me. I don't know if it's from fear or the winter. Probably both. I don't run anymore. I look around and look for hay, wanting to crawl into something dry. I find the place where the haystack was. And the haystack is there, but around it there are only the remains of half-rotten and completely wet grass. I spread it out, there's nothing dry.

Will I turn to stone from the cold? I have avoided the Ustasha dagger, but how can I escape the cold that penetrates to the marrow of my bones? I shiver. I must move, I conclude, I must not stop. If I stop and sit down, I will freeze.

I'm trying to figure out where I am. The rain has stopped. It's clearing up. The sun peeks out for a moment, the first free sun after 1,000 days of captivity in Jasenovac. If only it would clear up, if the sun would dry me out and warm me. I could somehow bear the hunger. I haven't eaten anything for 24 hours. The last camp meal was yesterday, April 21, 1945.

I notice the slope of a mountain. That's Prosara, I think. Soon I'll break out to the Sava. I'll swim across it. I can swim well. And when I swim across the Sava, it will be true freedom.