CH1-10 St Agata's the return - All.
Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 11:58 pm
Meeting up in the St Agata's the following morning Father Marakis introduces you to another of his parishioners a man called Mitar Todovic. The priest explains Mitar is a verteran of the 1992-94 war in Eastern Bosnia and has some information you might find useful. Short, balding and now running to fat the Todovic does not cut a very impressive figure but he is well built beneath the fat and a looks like a hard man.
Mitar cought "Father Marakis he says you are good men and I should tell you my story, you don't look like much but I tell you what the hell" he looks sheepishly at the priest, who frowns and waves at him to continue.
Is Autumn 1994, maybe October I think. We ambush a supply convoy, bound for the Muslim terrorists. The ambush is well planned, we are good, very successful, we kill everyone before they know we are attacking them. When we go to search the mules, we find bodies of several young girls all of whom scarred and tattooed. We also found lots of gold, perhaps several million dollars.
We leave the bodies and bury gold in the cellar of a burnt out house not far away. Two months later we return to house to move the gold somewhere safe. Yanislav and two others went down while rest of us waited by the truck have cigarettes. All those who went into the house died, somehow the Muslims had found out who took their gold and waited in ambush, flames flew out of that cellar some kind of incendiary device, young Zirri was the only one who actually made it out of the house and he died of his burns the next day.
We were lucky to escape that day, I watched from the truck as they drag bodies out of house. We thought that would be the end of it, but over the next two months all the others died, all burned to death. I fled Bosnia, came to London, make better peaceful life. Few weeks ago I am coming back from work and I see this man, I see one of the terrorists who drag bodies out of the house, he is older now but I will never forget his face, I’ll never forget any of their faces. I know this man I see him in Ealing, Ealing London.
Mitar cought "Father Marakis he says you are good men and I should tell you my story, you don't look like much but I tell you what the hell" he looks sheepishly at the priest, who frowns and waves at him to continue.
Is Autumn 1994, maybe October I think. We ambush a supply convoy, bound for the Muslim terrorists. The ambush is well planned, we are good, very successful, we kill everyone before they know we are attacking them. When we go to search the mules, we find bodies of several young girls all of whom scarred and tattooed. We also found lots of gold, perhaps several million dollars.
We leave the bodies and bury gold in the cellar of a burnt out house not far away. Two months later we return to house to move the gold somewhere safe. Yanislav and two others went down while rest of us waited by the truck have cigarettes. All those who went into the house died, somehow the Muslims had found out who took their gold and waited in ambush, flames flew out of that cellar some kind of incendiary device, young Zirri was the only one who actually made it out of the house and he died of his burns the next day.
We were lucky to escape that day, I watched from the truck as they drag bodies out of house. We thought that would be the end of it, but over the next two months all the others died, all burned to death. I fled Bosnia, came to London, make better peaceful life. Few weeks ago I am coming back from work and I see this man, I see one of the terrorists who drag bodies out of the house, he is older now but I will never forget his face, I’ll never forget any of their faces. I know this man I see him in Ealing, Ealing London.
