Chapter 5 – The Countryside
AN: I don't own the characters, or Grand Theft Auto or Rockstar etc… Thanks to Kemurikat for the reviews! This chapter might seem a bit boring, but its more of a psychological plot-point. Thanks!
Niko walked alongside an armored transport vehicle, AK gripped loosely in both hands. His unit was on its way to Sarajevo, the heart of Bosnia. They had had little contact with the Bosnians during their westward migration- only a smattering of guerilla attacks lacking in enthusiasm.
Apparently, the Serbian forces had already pushed the Bosnians all the way back to their capitol in a matter of months. The Bosnian military, along with their allies in Montenegro, had been badly beaten and had either dispersed, or taken refuge in Sarajevo or the countryside west of the city. Victory seemed absolute, but there were rumors that the U.N. had condemned the actions of Serbia, and was preparing to aid Bosnia. After his own actions across the last week, Niko was not so convinced that U.N. intervention was impossible.
Still walking, he turned and look back at the cluster of smoky pillars rising from behind a collection of hills into the gloomy overcast sky. They were coming from the village they had passed through the day before.
With the stories of brutality preceding them, Niko's unit, along with several other groups, marched through the village unopposed. The villagers were of the correct attitude that if they were to pose no opposition, they would not be harmed. However, it had become something of an unwritten law to degrade and punish civilians if they were Bosnian, and especially if they were Muslim. Accordingly, they proceeded to kill the village's livestock and burn the entire wealth of their abundant wheat fields.
Though the captain had become the undisputed figurehead of command, Mogadanastavic persisted as the group's leader in terms of inspiration and leadership. It was undeniable that he had changed since the execution of the prisoners. Whether by his own force of will or by his nature to stand out, he had become the most brutal and ruthless of their unit. In the village, he had taken both the lives for which the unit was responsible: a man born in Serbia who had moved to Bosnia and married a Muslim woman, for which he died, and an old woman who spit on him when he came to ransack her house. He was frightening to Niko's unit now, but he had once again claimed the mantle of leadership in another way.
Looking at the smoke, Niko felt some unpleasant emotion. He was unsure if it was guilt or pity. He turned away, walking alongside the vehicle, trudging through the mud. Looking around, the countryside reminded him of pictures from a history textbook which showed pictures of the French countryside during World War II. As a boy, as with any other boy, war seemed like the pinnacle of excitement. Acts of heroism and victory remained completely separate from the indifferent force of death.
He realized his war was different than the great clash in Europe decades ago, but he had a better understanding of the nature of war now. He had felt none of the excitement he envisioned. He
had felt a mixture of emotions which he sometimes mistook for exhilaration, but looked very far away from it in retrospect. He'd felt terror, shame, hatred, sorrow, and even bloodlust at times. Now, he experienced a certain form of boredom. He no longer cared about anything to do with the war.
He continued walking. In a few more kilometers, he'd be able to switch with one of the men riding the transport, maybe then he could catch a bit of a nap.