IVAN, 39, is a well-dressed, war-scarred Bulgarian national who is no longer in the country.
He seldom smiles; he gave this interview because he wants to purge himself of his deep and dark secrets. Ivan is not his real name; he is being sought, he says, for war crimes against humanity. His dark brown eyes seem to reflect images of death; some of his secrets will be taken to his grave.
A cloud of cigarette smoke wreathes him, and he speaks while gazing at a long glass of vodka: “I had experienced love, friendship, and a family. I had tasted the adventure of travel. I also endured countless hours of hard work across a variety of jobs. During my life sometimes I succeeded and sometimes I failed. But war, this I needed to know. What was this phenomenon that stretched the age of time?”
In January 1999, he said goodbye to his wife and family, went to work but did not return. His family knew nothing of what he was about to undertake. Ivan said with great conviction: “This was a very personal journey which I had to carry out alone.” That day he sneaked across the border from Bulgaria into Macedonia to join the KLA. A 12-month contract for $5000 a month, the equivalent of three years’ salary. “Even though it was good money, it wasn’t about that, it was about a life experience,” he says.
Macedonia housed several KLA/NLA (National Liberation Army) operatives. In Gostivar, friends introduced him to a KLA recruiter and a few days later he was in a mobile training camp just outside Kosovo. New recruits underwent an intensive, brutal six-month programme on how to kill and how to survive. The instructors were former Foreign Legion, Russian army and US Special Forces and many of the 100 recruits came from the war in Afghanistan, the Russian army or the French Foreign Legion. “We constantly changed our surroundings and were trained in the adaptation to diverse terrain, explosives, weaponry and hand-to-hand combat. Those who survived went on to fight, the others either died during training or were killed because they wanted out. The training camp often became the real thing with Serbian forces frequently storming our camp locations. We were trained to move at a moments notice,” he says.
In order to survive emotionally he removed from his mind the thought of anyone close to him, especially his family.
“I missed them very much, they were people who I loved deeply but I had to remove all thoughts of them. They became nothing. I could not survive more than one week if I thought about them.”
Trained in the Bulgarian army and an excellent marksman who could kill a man at 800 metres, Ivan was selected as a sniper. A soldier who worked alone, he was chosen for some of the most spine chilling missions.
“My orders were to ‘clean’ the village, which meant kill anyone with a uniform or a weapon until there was no one left standing.
I was alone and terrified. Bullets were flying in all directions, the sounds of blood- curdling screams from the men, women and children dying in front of my eyes. The unspoken law was to take no prisoners, kill or be killed.”
In the animal kingdom, the laws of nature state it is the survival of the fittest. As a KLA fighter it was the same, often living like an animal. He carried only his Dragonov sniper rifle and ammunition; everything else he needed was to be found along the way. Sleep was a privilege that was often unattainable. “War is a 24-hour business,” says Ivan. Living in crevice after crevice and constantly moving to avoid detection, he scavenged wherever possible. Often he resorted to living off the elements.
“I started to eat the moss from a tree and when I discovered it was a good source of protein, it became a regular part of my diet along with roots and pines needles”.
He tries not to think about it any more, not unlike most veterans of war. “ I have trouble with the horrible feelings that come to mind. I can’t believe these stupid things continue.
I don’t have the power to stop this life for the normal people of Kosovo. I am not a hero or a criminal, just a casualty. War is no illusion and it brings no good future.”
Ivan recalls an operation that he is comfortable to share. “It was August 1999. I remember checking my equipment and bringing only what was necessary, night vision binoculars, water, torch, knife and rifle, nothing more. Most of the missions were in Serbia over the border. I walked for one-and-a-half days to reach the target. It was mountainous terrain and I was hiding all the time. Sometimes I would stay in one place not moving or breathing. When I reached the target I saw seven armoured vehicles and 32 bodyguards. My instructions were to execute a Serbian businessman who was muscling in on Albanian drug trafficking. I had seen a photo of him, but that was days ago and it was hard to remember exactly what he looked like. When he left the car it was impossible to get fix on the target. Maybe he was the first person, second or third, it was very difficult. I looked through my binoculars, knowing I only had about five seconds to make the shot. I emptied my magazine and fled. Fortunately it was the right person.”
Particularly bloody missions had a negotiable price tag. Villages containing up to 1 000 “enemies” had a $10 000 bounty for the KLA who returned.
Many of the soldiers were on drugs. Cocaine was plentiful and helped ease the daily pain and escape the reality of death. Ivan said: “Anything was possible for those who completed a successful mission. The commanders were in the most part Albanian Mafia figures, which participated in the monthly supply of $20 billion of contraband in and out of Kosovo. I came to fight for freedom, however the 600-year power struggle for the territory of Kosovo became twisted and used by those who seeked control of a super black economy. We were the pawns that ensured business operated without ‘problems’.”
The stakes were high as were the rewards.
Many of the KLA in Kosovo lived like kings with little respect for anything else but themselves. In such a lawless environment, it was difficult to determine who was friend or foe.
Ivan said: “It was easy to get caught up in the propaganda, and many soldiers did. They wanted to die for freedom. The ethnic cleansing was a terrible reality and it got out of control by the hands of fundamentalists who were inspired by greedy moneymen. These individuals had their own agenda to seize control of territory and supply routes. Instability and war provided them with riches beyond the imagination. Under the cloak of ethnic cleansing, thousands were killed or displaced from their homes.”
Although the Albanians strove for independence, Ivan observed that in day-to-day life they lived happily and normally with Serbians in Kosovo. But as the crisis intensified people who were once neighbours and lived in harmony suddenly started to kill each other.
Quickly disillusioned by the movement’s stench of death and corruption, Ivan chose to bide his time. He completed his assignments as instructed but lived a solitary life on his return to camp. He read and contemplated life while waiting for his contract to end. In the interim, in operations, he was wounded 12 times.
He is now home with his wife and children and desperately wants to forget the details of his past. His wife doesn’t ask any questions and he offers no answers. The experience will live with him for the rest of his life.
Five years after the Kosovo conflict, the people of the region continue to live in fear and uncertainty while their future is held in the hands of rebels, corrupt governments and a peacekeeping force that appears to lack commitment.
“Thousands of innocent people are dead and nothing has changed. Wars are supposed to crush evil. Justice is supposed to prevail,” says Ivan.
