Jablanica // Nobody Smiles Through a Beating
© John Bills
After the debacle of getting from Stolac to Jablanica had robbed me of an entire day of sightseeing (damn you, unreliable buses and villages outside Domanovići), my exploration of the Museum of the Battle for the Wounded on the Neretva finally came to pass. It wasn’t much of a dent, of course. If the name of that museum doesn’t put things into perspective, I don’t know what will. Sure, I was less than jazzed about moving things around, but when you are in a museum dedicated to a humanitarian battle in the middle of the Balkan winter, check yourself.
Few battles were as defining for the Partisans of Yugoslavia as this particular battle, but don’t go expecting history to neatly lay this one up either. The battle in question was several battles, all falling under the codename Fall Weiß (Case White). Cutting what will still be a long story relatively short, Fall Weiß was an Axis plan to snuff out the Partisans once and for all, ending all fascist fears of an Allied landing in the Balkans. The idea was to surround Tito and his fighters and, well, end them, but the opposite ended up happening. Big Joe used strategic ingenuity to get out, defeating the Royalist Četniks along the way. Oh, and rescuing 4,000 wounded people too. BECAUSE ŽIVJO JUGOSLAVIJE, or something along those lines.
The Museum of the Battle for the Wounded on the Neretva is one of the finest museums in Bosnia and Herzegovina. I feel like I say that a lot, but I’m saying it for realsies this time. If people primarily come to Jablanica for that delicious, delicious roasted lamb (which is delicious, if I didn’t mention that) first, the legacy of this battle and the excellent museum are a close second. If you can combine the two, happy days.
© John Bills
The days around which the battle happened were not happy, The museum’s main exhibition was divided into several sections, the first of which set out the context in which all of this happened. The Axis situation in North Africa wasn’t looking too hot, the battle for Yugoslavia was molten, etc etc. The display included numerous orders from the Axis, many of which showcase complete arrogance and a total lack of understanding of events on the ground in Yugoslavia. Which, in the long run, was excellent news for all of humanity.
Context was followed by carnage as the museum moved gears into covering the battles of Croatia and Western Bosnia at the time, displays filled with deeply miserable images of evacuations taking place in dreadful winter conditions. Many field hospitals had been set up in the territory controlled by Tito and the Partisans, but this territory increasingly fragile. As such, the decision was made to abandon the ship, although abandoning the wounded was not an option. The slog was about to begin.
War is awful. That should go without saying at this point, and I’m sure it does, but it bears repeating. I know very little about the reality of battle, but I know enough to know that it isn’t all drama and romance and valour and passion. Most likely, it is a lot of waiting before some shooting and a heap of dying. This was a combination of all of that. A small group of exhausted but committed soldiers evacuating thousands of people on the verge of death across tremendously difficult terrain at the height of winter while they are all being pursued by a variety of opposing armies, each with extermination in mind. Real life, in impossible mode.
The last portion of the permanent exhibition focused on the Partisan counter-offensive, an attempt to take control of Prozor and Jablanica that would allow them to blow up the bridge that was supposed to be their salvation. Yep, you read that right. The Partisans and their wounded trekked across the mountains in the snow in the hope of crossing the Neretva at Jablanica, only to blow up the bridge. Why? Well, it sounds like typhus-inspired insanity at best, but it was a carefully calculated move designed to confuse and divert the attackers while giving Tito and his followers more time to navigate their journey. A makeshift bridge was erected across the bridge allowing a group of Partisans to cross the river and snuff out the Četniks, giving access and salvation to the thousands in the process. There is a lot more to this than that, of course, but this isn’t a history blog about battles and details.
© John Bills
Besides, there is a mega-expensive and widely lauded film you can watch to get the full gist. Released in 1969, Battle of the Neretva was one of the most expensive productions in the history of Yugoslav cinema, the 175-minute epic featured such celebrated names as Yul Brynner, Franco Nero and Anthony Dawson, not to mention icons of Yugoslav cinema such as my good buddy Bata Živojinović and Boris Dvornik. Is it largely a propaganda piece? Sure, it ticks all the stereotypes, features people being shot in dramatic fashion and celebrates the integrity and humanity of the Partisans above all. Does it shy away from the misery of the situation? Absolutely not. A large percentage of characters that viewers invest in during the film happen to snuff it (usually through bullets or typhus), and the insanity of the entire situation is never far from the surface. You have to get through a number of stereotypes to get there, but the destination matters more in this instance.
As the thousands of wounded humans dragged themselves across the landscape, the destination was the only thing keeping them going. They made it, against all the odds. It would be naive to assume that the story ended there (many of them had typhus, after all, and a dramatic escape doesn’t exactly cure that), but the humanity of the entire escapade gave new life to the Partisans, destroyed the moral integrity of their opponents and created a legend on which victories are born.
The secondary exhibition in the museum looked at the industrialisation of Bosnia and Herzegovina during the Yugoslav years, but my brain was too flooded with drama and insanity to take in the statistics. How could it not? I watched a fascinating short film by Vatroslav Mimica, a film about typhus called Tifusari, before wandering outside to consider the dramatic surroundings in which the whole thing unfolded. It was impossible to even fathom. Jablanica today is a quiet town of busy people and delicious lamb, defined by its central location, a location that gave life to the most dramatic event in its history and one of the defining moments in Yugoslavia. Živjo Jugoslavije, indeed.
