I heard the whistle of the shell before I heard the explosion, the shrill piercing sound that could spell nothing but death and destruction, and grief for those who somehow survived it. It was only as I rounded the corner that I realized that this time I would be more than a witness, more than a doctor rendering aid to one of those poor unfortunates who who might be lucky enough to survive with nothing more than the loss of a limb, or their sight. This time the explosion had struck the building that housed my family, and as I took the stairs upwards to our small apartment, I barely saw the injured or heard the cries of those who begged me for help.
Nothing mattered to me in those moments but getting to my family and on reaching them, finding them safe. It didn't happen. I heard my wife's cry for help as I reached the hallway and as I entered I was met by the sight of my baby boy's body buried under the rubble of what had been his crib, his tiny hand reaching for help that never came to save him. I can't begin to tell you how hard it was to leave him like that, but for the moment my wife and daughter were still alive, they had a chance if I could only get them out of the building in time.
The smoke was already making it difficult to breath but I had had to ignore it, Jasna, Danijela, they needed my strength, not my fear. I picked up our daughter and told my wife we had to go, only to discover a piece of metal had impaled her, when I laid Jasna down to see to her injuries, my little girl stopped breathing, and I realized I couldn't carry them both to safety. How could I choose between them? I'd already lost my baby boy, I couldn't lose my daughter too, I started CPR, and in between breaths tried to tell Danijela what to do to slow her own bleeding. I screamed for help until my voice was raw, but, no one ever came, and when I lost my wife I fought even harder for my daughter's life. It was finally my own exhaustion that forced me to stop, and my weakness meant the end of my daughter's young life. There was only one final thing I had to do.
I placed Jasna in her mother's arms before going to Marko's crib, I couldn't leave him buried like that. I begged him to forgive me for not being home to protect him as I pulled away the debris with my bare hands, even as I knew I would never forgive myself for failing them. When I had finally freed him, I carried him in to his his mother, and after placing him too in her arms I lay down beside them. I think I was hoping that if I went to sleep, maybe God would take pity on me and allow the smoke to claim me, that he would allow me to be with my family in death, but he didn't, the rescuers found me before morning. I was one of the lucky ones they said.
If only they knew.
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