led into the village from the north. The third was the assault element. It would take down the police station.”
“And what did they plan to do once they took the police station?”
“Well, you gotta understand a few things about that Piluca station.”
“Like what?”
“Like it had a real nasty reputation.”
“Why so?”
“The Serb captain who commanded it, he got put there about a year before by the authorities in Belgrade. He’d done some time in Bosnia and was regarded as something of an expert on ethnic cleansing. He even had a nickname: the Hammer.”
“Why that nickname?”
“That was like his signature. He always carried around a hammer in his belt. He liked to use it to bash fingers and toes and testicles. Apparently, he was a real sadist.”
“Did he have a large force?”
“About thirty Serbs were under him, give or take a few. They’d pretty well terrorized that little town for the whole year.”
“So Akhan’s team wanted revenge?” I asked.
“There was probably some of that, but what Captain Akhan figured was that the Piluca station was a symbol. Knocking it off would show every Albanian Kosovar in our sector that the Liberation Army had balls and could actually accomplish something.”
“What do you mean by ‘knocking it off’?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“They’d take it over for an hour or two. Maybe take the Serb captain prisoner, and certainly take all the weapons.”
“Maybe? Did they or didn’t they intend to take him prisoner?”
“Okay, they did. Him and as many other Serbs as they could get.”
“And what did they plan to do with the Serbs they took prisoner?”
“We didn’t ask.”
The funny thing is, he was looking me straight in the eye as he said that. Funnier still, he apparently expected me to believe it. This Captain Akhan was talking about taking prisoners, only prisoners are pretty damned inconvenient when you’re operating behind enemy lines, moving base camps every few days, and trying to save your ass from marauding Serb hunter-killer teams.
It seemed much more likely that Akhan and his crew planned to slaughter whatever Serbs they could get their hands on. And if I was right about that, then Sanchez and his team, in obliging that kind of thing, had already taken the first deadly step over that thin line that separates warfare from atrocity-even before Akhan’s company were killed.
“But what did you assume they were going to do with the prisoners?” I asked.
“I assumed the captain planned to turn ’em over to UN authority so they could be tried for crimes against humanity.”
“And how did he plan to do that, given that you were behind enemy lines, at least a two-day march from Macedonia, and the capturing of the Serb police surely was going to lead to a manhunt?”
“I just trusted they would,” he said very simply. “Captain Akhan wasn’t the type to commit murder.”
“Did you report the planned KLA attack to Tenth Group headquarters?”
“No.”
“And why didn’t you?”
“We didn’t have to. We had authority to approve Captain Akhan’s operations.”
“You had authority? I thought you were there in an advisory capacity.”
He never blinked. “That’s right. I misspoke.”
“You’re sure you misspoke?”
“Yes. It was just a slip of the tongue. The truth was, Captain Akhan had the authority to decide on the attack himself. It was what he wanted to do, and we had no right to stop him.”
“So what happened?” I asked, filing away that line of inquiry for later.
“Usually a few men stayed behind with us, maybe a few sick guys. Not this time, though. Everyone went. They left about two in the morning, figuring to hit the station at first light. Like I said, the Serb police were known for getting drunked up every night, so Captain Akhan figured they’d be sleeping it off. We don’t really know what happened after that. Maybe they were expected, or maybe it was just bad luck and the Serb police garrison got reinforced the day before. Anyway, they got down to Piluca, and the crap hit the fan.”
“Could there have been a security leak?”
He appeared thoughtful and scratched his jaw for a few moments, which I considered a bit of theatrics for my benefit, because he and the rest of the team must already have spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out why Akhan’s plan turned into a disaster.
Finally, he said, “Probably a pretty good chance that’s what happened. The Serbs ain’t stupid. We’ve suspected that they’ve been sending agents south to infiltrate the Kosovar camps and try to get into the KLA. Sometimes they’re holding a guy’s family and he’s got no choice but to work for ’em. We try to be careful when we recruit, but you gotta expect a few turncoats or spies to get through.”
“Were you in radio contact with Akhan’s company?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that unusual?”
“No. The SOP was to maintain radio silence.”
“Even if things went wrong?”
“Sure. Wasn’t like there was anything we could do about it. We weren’t there to fight.”
“So what happened?”
“What happened? Well, it went to shit, and they were all wiped out.”
“Every man?” I asked.
“A few of ’em were captured, then immediately executed.”
“How did you find that out?”
“Around ten or so, when they still weren’t back, we sent a recon team to check on ’em.”
“Who was in that team?”
“Perrite and Machusco. They snuck into the village and checked it out.”
“And how did the members of your team react to that news?”
“Shit happens. It’s war. Guys get killed.”
“Weren’t you disappointed?”
“Not enough to go out and kill a bunch of Serbs.”
“Did you feel a sense of personal loss?”
“Look, Captain Akhan and his company were pretty good guys. But we weren’t real close or any of that shit. We kept to ourselves; they kept to themselves.”
“Why was that?”
“Because we were different. Most of them didn’t speak any English, and only two of our guys speak Albanian. Also, Captain Akhan’s guys were real tight.”
“Tight how?”
“Most of ’em grew up together, or at least knew each other before. Also, the captain did a pretty good job of keepin’ ’em together.”
Lots of folks give off clues they don’t mean to. Persico was making what I regarded to be a very enlightening mistake. Warrant officers are notoriously disrespectful. They’re bred that way. They occupy an awkward position in the Army, caught in a netherworld between the enlisted ranks and the officer ranks, accepted by neither. Like porcupines grow spines, they respond with a slouchy grouchiness toward any but their own kind. Persico’s constant referrals to Akhan as Captain Akhan was a sign of respect, if not outright reverence. I didn’t buy the breezy indifference.
“How was your relationship with Captain Sanchez?” I asked, changing tracks.
“Great.”
“Was he a good team leader?”
