The Story Behind Displaced
The Story Behind Displaced
The writing of Displaced began way back in 1988 following the death of my grandfather.’Max’ had been a veiled secret for all of his life he had spent living in England following his arrival from the former Yugoslavia.
Like many, once proud countries within the expanding Soviet block, the Balkan countries had fallen under communist rule. Hundreds of thousands of men, women and children were forced to flee their native homelands or face persecution and possible death.
Max had been just one of these. Fiercely opposing Nazi occupation of his country he had taken up arms in defiance of the occupiers who now, it appeared reigned supreme across Europe.
Guerrilla units of armed men soon took to the mountains to plot and carry out sabotage attacks and disruption of supremacy against the occupying forces. Fiercely loyal to their cause these freedom fighters faced however a second front. Fellow countrymen also had a plan of defiance against the evading armies; their ideals however were that of communist, not the royalist cause.
Initially both sides, despite the deep seated rift of beliefs collaborated with one goal in sight, to rid their beloved country of the enemy and restore peace.
Unfortunately the rift widened and within twelve months fierce fighting erupted between fellow countrymen. Communist and Royalist saw each other as an equal enemy to the invaders and Yugoslavia erupted into a full blown civil war, fighting now on three fronts.
Royalist fighters waited for the allied liberation that was never to come. The communist fighters waited for the approaching Red Army of Russia for liberation and overall control.
Unfortunately for ‘Max’ it was the latter which ended the war in Yugoslavia. Brave royalist fighters were now given the death sentence wherever and whenever, on their capture.
Western allies, once proud supporters of the defeated slowly turned their backs on the needy. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the need to put an end to continued suffering, an olive branch was offered to anyone able to flee into neighbouring territories under allied command.
‘Max’ had been one of the lucky few. The next two years, between 1945 and 1947 he was offered solace in Displaced Persons camps in Italy, Germany and finally England. The British Government, eager to replenish their stock of manual labourers lost at war, offered a new beginning in exchange for sweat and toil.
Living out the rest of his forty one years in England ‘Max’ remained a closed book. Never would he speak of his former life in Yugoslavia. Like many, his family had been slain and he could never return to the country he had loved.
Cancer finally took its toll in 1988 and with his passing the code of silence was finally breached. A fellow displaced friend passed onto my parents the name of the village grandfather had lived before the war.
Wanting only to collect a little soil from the native homeland to spread on the grave my parents travelled to the elusive village. Hopes of fulfilment were soon quashed, no sooner had they entered the ramshackle mountain hamlet, they were arrested at gunpoint by one police officer and two suited gentlemen.
With this I became filled, and fuelled with intrigue. Just what was the story surrounding ‘Max?’ Why the harsh treatment, and why the need for silence spanning almost fifty years?
Over the next twenty years I was to uncover, piece by piece parts of the puzzle. Innocence and naivety would place me in unseen danger as I visited Bosnia in my quest for answers.
Bosnia – Old Country of Scars was to finally answer the many questions I sought and reveal her past shrouded away from memory and knowing for so long.
The writing of Displaced began way back in 1988 following the death of my grandfather.’Max’ had been a veiled secret for all of his life he had spent living in England following his arrival from the former Yugoslavia.
Like many, once proud countries within the expanding Soviet block, the Balkan countries had fallen under communist rule. Hundreds of thousands of men, women and children were forced to flee their native homelands or face persecution and possible death.
Max had been just one of these. Fiercely opposing Nazi occupation of his country he had taken up arms in defiance of the occupiers who now, it appeared reigned supreme across Europe.
Guerrilla units of armed men soon took to the mountains to plot and carry out sabotage attacks and disruption of supremacy against the occupying forces. Fiercely loyal to their cause these freedom fighters faced however a second front. Fellow countrymen also had a plan of defiance against the evading armies; their ideals however were that of communist, not the royalist cause.
Initially both sides, despite the deep seated rift of beliefs collaborated with one goal in sight, to rid their beloved country of the enemy and restore peace.
Unfortunately the rift widened and within twelve months fierce fighting erupted between fellow countrymen. Communist and Royalist saw each other as an equal enemy to the invaders and Yugoslavia erupted into a full blown civil war, fighting now on three fronts.
Royalist fighters waited for the allied liberation that was never to come. The communist fighters waited for the approaching Red Army of Russia for liberation and overall control.
Unfortunately for ‘Max’ it was the latter which ended the war in Yugoslavia. Brave royalist fighters were now given the death sentence wherever and whenever, on their capture.
Western allies, once proud supporters of the defeated slowly turned their backs on the needy. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the need to put an end to continued suffering, an olive branch was offered to anyone able to flee into neighbouring territories under allied command.
‘Max’ had been one of the lucky few. The next two years, between 1945 and 1947 he was offered solace in Displaced Persons camps in Italy, Germany and finally England. The British Government, eager to replenish their stock of manual labourers lost at war, offered a new beginning in exchange for sweat and toil.
Living out the rest of his forty one years in England ‘Max’ remained a closed book. Never would he speak of his former life in Yugoslavia. Like many, his family had been slain and he could never return to the country he had loved.
Cancer finally took its toll in 1988 and with his passing the code of silence was finally breached. A fellow displaced friend passed onto my parents the name of the village grandfather had lived before the war.
Wanting only to collect a little soil from the native homeland to spread on the grave my parents travelled to the elusive village. Hopes of fulfilment were soon quashed, no sooner had they entered the ramshackle mountain hamlet, they were arrested at gunpoint by one police officer and two suited gentlemen.
With this I became filled, and fuelled with intrigue. Just what was the story surrounding ‘Max?’ Why the harsh treatment, and why the need for silence spanning almost fifty years?
Over the next twenty years I was to uncover, piece by piece parts of the puzzle. Innocence and naivety would place me in unseen danger as I visited Bosnia in my quest for answers.
Bosnia – Old Country of Scars was to finally answer the many questions I sought and reveal her past shrouded away from memory and knowing for so long.