Dayton is also the home of many former refugees from the Balkan wars — especially from Bosnia and Herzegovina — who chose to settle here after the Accords. Our 87-year-old mother, Molly (Yankovich) Campbell, grew up in Dayton, speaking Croatian, and has helped to welcome and settle a number of Bosnian families.
Nov. 18 marked the 22nd anniversary of the fall of Vukovar, when that once lovely, ancient city along the Danube River, on the eastern border of Croatia, surrendered to the Serb-controlled Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA). It was the first major battle of the Yugoslav Wars. Earlier in 1991, Croatia had declared its independence from the former socialist Republic of Yugoslavia which, before its break-up in 1992, had included Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia and Slovenia.
At the time of the battle, JNA commanders predicted it would take only 2-14 days to take Vukovar (the Alamo siege in 1836 lasted 13 days). But for three months in the summer and fall of 1991, about 2,000 Croatian defenders – mostly residents of the town – held off 36,000-40,000 JNA and local Serbian forces. Even though the battle was lost and the city fell, it was a major strategic victory for the Croatians – referred to by one military expert as “the battle that saved Croatia.” The fierce resistance dampened the JNA and Serbian will to keep Croatia as part of Yugoslavia, and they turned their guns and grenades on Bosnia-Herzegovina.
We became interested in Vukovar in 2012 when we visited our Croatian relatives for the first time, along with our mother. We learned the story of Nikola “Kićo” Gegić, the 35-year-old husband of our cousin, Mina (Popijac) Gegić. Kićo, at age 14, was among the youngest of the “child defenders” of Vukovar.
Kićo’s ordeal and the obstacles he still faces haunted us, and we returned this October to document his family’s story. We visited Vukovar where Kićo grew up, and where he witnessed the death of his 17-year-old brother, Stevo, decapitated when a rocket-launched grenade exploded in their 12th-story apartment on Oct. 5, 1991. Just a boy, Kićo had already joined the 204th Vukovar Brigade to serve as a defender alongside Stevo and their father, Kolja. Two older brothers, Branko and Fatmir, had been conscripted into the JNA just before Croatia declared its independence; they were constantly harassed by the Serbian soldiers and officers who commanded the JNA. Once, when Branko and Fatmir asked to go on leave together, they were told that only one could go, and if he didn’t return, the other brother would be shot. Eventually, rather than wage war on his own family and country, Branko committed suicide. Later, in 1995, Fatmir’s body was found in a mass grave with a bullet hole in his head.
During the Battle of Vukovar, Kićo’s family endured continuous shelling and gunfire. By some estimates, fire power equal to two atomic bombs destroyed Vukovar during that three-month period. When the city fell, his father, Kolja Gegić, was captured and thrown into a Serbian prison near Begejci. Kićo was separated from his mother and taken to that same prison. They were both tortured daily for their roles as Croatian defenders. They were released after a month in a prisoner exchange, but by then Kićo had sustained permanent damage from the beatings. Now, 22 years later, he still has severe pain and also suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, with nightmares and thoughts of suicide. After Vukovar was captured, Kićo’s family and thousands of other refugees settled in Zagreb, Croatia’s capitol. His mother and father went back to their restored apartment in 1998, when Vukovar was returned to Croatia. His father died in 2006, but his mother, Anna, still lives in the same apartment where Stevo was killed. We stayed there in October, and Mom slept in Stevo’s old room.
While we were in Vukovar, we witnessed the ongoing reconstruction of the city, and visited the important battle sites and memorials, including the cemetery where Kićo’s brothers and father are now buried. We toured the military museum, and on a list of Serbian concentration camp inmates posted there we found the names of Kićo and his father. Kićo had never seen this list before, and it was an emotional moment – some small recognition for his service to Croatia.
Kićo is a war hero, one of the very youngest, and we hope that he will gain the veteran status and healthcare he deserves, and that his story will someday have a happy ending. Meanwhile, as Croatian Americans who care about our family, we have a hard time comprehending why so many of the child defenders throughout Croatia have not been fully recognized for the sacrifices they made for their country. In the U.S. by now, we would at least be making movies about the heroism of these soldiers.
With the 20th anniversary of the Dayton Accords approaching, it is a good time to be proud of Dayton’s role in the peace process, and to remember the dead and the still-living victims of the Yugoslav Wars, especially the child defenders of Croatia.
About the Author