War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1944 Will this war end within 10 months?
On the fourth floor of the building, which had been secretly captured by Wei Ran and his men, the three captured "sellers" had their hands and feet dislocated by Wei Ran and were sitting against the wall like three rag dolls, being "interviewed" by Thomas and another frontline reporter who had faked his death and been rescued.

Based on the basic information obtained by the three war correspondents, the three survivors, including the one who died, were Serbs, Croats, and Muslims.

Similarly, the same applies to the four girls they captured.

According to these three surviving vendors, nobody really cares what ethnicity they are; the real conflict is between the choice between "American-style life" and "Soviet-style life."

Of course, the immediate problem is how to survive. Under this premise, after abandoning all moral principles, the prices of Serbian, Croat, and Muslim girls are not much different here, and the difficulty of arresting these sellers is not much different either.

"Look, just like the Berliners on both sides of the Berlin Wall."

Klaus grunted, then yawned; they hadn't rested in a long time.

Leave this to us.

Thomas said, "Mr. WTO, you should go and rest."

“Be wary,” Dragan cautioned.

“I’ll keep my eyes open all night,” Thomas assured him. “And I have helpers.”

"Then it's up to you."

After Klaus finished speaking, he yawned and went upstairs.

Thomas glanced at Alf and the other prisoners, whose limbs were still dislocated, then turned to Wei Ran and said, "Restore one of their hands, or at least let them eat something."

"no problem"

Wei Ran walked up to Yalf and, under the other man's tense gaze, reset his dislocated left hand and handcuffed him.

"Thank you"

Alf grimaced and thanked him, "Could you restore my leg too? I want to..."

"Just pee in your pants, it'll keep you warm."

Wei Ran gave a perfunctory reply without any pity and turned to walk towards the next prisoner.

Amidst screams of agony, Wei Ran successfully reset the dislocated joints in the left hands of all the prisoners. He then left behind the radio he had been carrying and followed Dragan and Klaus up to the fifth floor.

After checking on the four young women being cared for by Luna and Sophia, the three of them went up to the sixth floor and each chose a single bed against the wall to lie down.

Within two minutes, the three exhausted individuals were all snoring away.

"Would it be a problem for us to stay?"

On the fifth floor of the building, Sophia, who was organizing medicines, asked in a low voice.

"What about those Mr. Letters?" Luna countered.

Seeing Sofia nod, Luna sighed, "Our choice is indeed a problem for them, but not for Sarajevo."

"Are we going to die here?" Sofia pressed.

"Probably, I bet it will."

Luna's answer contained no despair, only a matter-of-fact composure.

"How about them?"

Sofia pointed to the four young girls lying on the bed. "Will they survive?"

"Maybe," Luna paused, "definitely!"

"I hope we can save as many people as possible before we get shot, and I also hope those 'Mr. Alphabet' guys will help us," Sofia said, then sighed.

That night, three war correspondents stayed up all night interviewing the prisoners, while also taking turns keeping a watchful eye on any activity outside.

When Wei Ran and his two companions were awakened by calls from the radio downstairs, it was already the early hours of the next day.
On the fourth floor, right next to the corner of the stairwell, Yalf glanced at the gun pointed at his head, swallowed hard, and began to respond.

At this point, unless he could escape the building, he would have to stand on the same boat as Thomas and the others.

During his question-and-answer session with the person on the other end of the radio, Wei Ran and the other two also came down from upstairs carrying weapons.

After a few final communications, Alf allowed Thomas to help him terminate the communication.

"What did they say in that communication just now?" Dragan asked.

"A job for Alf"

Thomas said, "First, let's confirm that Mr. Baker and Mr. Anderson were indeed killed by the three of you last night."

In addition, we need to obtain Mr. Baker and Mr. Anderson's interview transcripts, audio recordings, film negatives, and camera from the three of you.

After a brief pause, Thomas continued, "That's all for now. Also, the three of us plan to leave here temporarily."

"Three? Which three?" Dragan didn't react for a moment.

"Me, Luna, and Sofia"

Thomas pointed to the girls, each carrying a backpack.

"What are you going to do?" Dragan asked warily.

"Let's go."

"Go interview some people"

Thomas beat Luna to the punch and gave a clearly untrue answer.

I don't trust you.

Klaus bluntly stated, "And you haven't paid the balance yet."

"I"

"Klaus, let me go with the three of them."

Wei Ran spoke up at the opportune moment, saying, "I was just about to go out for a stroll."

After a moment's hesitation, Klaus and Dragan exchanged a glance, and finally nodded to Wei Ran together.

"I'll go keep watch on the first floor," Klaus said, already stepping downstairs.

“I’ll go up to the roof and keep an eye on you,” Dragan said, then turned and headed upstairs.

"wait for me"

Wei Ran shook his head at Thomas, who seemed to want to say something but hesitated, and walked towards the pile of supplies not far away. After emptying his backpack, he filled it with some emergency medicines and a large amount of compressed biscuits.

"Do you know what we're going to do?" Thomas asked apologetically.

"Nobody here is a fool."

Wei Ran tossed two rolls of film and a few submachine gun magazines into his bag one last time. "Let's go. Hopefully we'll come back alive."

Thomas sighed in relief. "Mr. T, thank you."

"No need to be so polite."

As Wei Ran changed into a set of clothes he had stripped from a prisoner, he jokingly reminded him, "Just remember to pay the commission."

"I will"

Thomas shook his head, both amused and exasperated, tightened his heavy backpack, and led Wei Ran and the two girls down to the first floor.

Before dawn, the four of them left the building and began to wander through the besieged city, using the building's shadow as cover.

It was not yet five in the morning, the darkest time of winter, and the quietest time in Sarajevo. The streets were deserted, except for the flickering lights in the buildings on either side.

Thomas and the others were closer to their destination than Wei Ran had anticipated. They had only run past two intersections before Thomas led them into a dark and narrow alley between two abandoned buildings.

The visibility here was so low that Thomas, who was walking at the front, had to use an American-style L-shaped flashlight for illumination, and Wei Ran also cautiously raised the silenced submachine gun that was originally hidden between his back and backpack, on guard against any "surprises" that might appear above his head and directly in front of him.

After walking several dozen meters along the alley, which was less than a meter wide, Thomas led them into an inconspicuous building.

The building was much smaller than the surrounding buildings and looked particularly dilapidated, especially the windows, which were covered with sheet metal and security bars.

"Clang, clang, clang," Thomas gently knocked on a metal door that seemed to be locked from the inside.

"who is it?"

An aged but steady voice came from inside the metal door, "I have a PPSh submachine gun in my hand. If you don't want to be riddled with bullets, you'd better get lost right now."

“Old Man Mikhail, it’s me, Thomas, war correspondent Thomas.”

"It's you?"

The aged voice inside hesitated for a moment before asking, "Would you like red wine or juice?"

"I won't drink anything, I won't even drink water."

Thomas responded in a very low voice, clearly a coded message with a hidden meaning.

"Wait a moment"

Mikhail, the old man inside the tin door, responded slowly and then fell silent.

However, Wei Ran, who remained vigilant, noticed that the second floor had security bars, and that a window covered by a sheet of iron on the inside of the security bars had been opened from the inside.

Immediately afterward, a small mirror attached to a wooden stick extended out. Upon seeing this, Thomas immediately turned on his flashlight and shone it around.

"Quickly turn off the flashlight!"

From that window, a woman whose voice suggested she was no longer young spoke softly. Almost simultaneously, the iron gate on the first floor was opened from the inside.

"Come in quickly!" An old man, whose face was obscured, called out from inside the iron gate, through the dimly lit doorway.

"Are the children alright?" Thomas asked as he ran in.

Not very good.

As the iron gate slammed shut, Thomas turned his flashlight back on, and Wei Ran finally saw that the gatekeeper was an old man who looked to be at least seventy years old.

He wasn't tall, but in the most prominent position on his chest hung a Yugoslavian Second Class Partisan Star Medal.

Besides the medal that proves his identity, he is also holding a PPSh submachine gun loaded with a drum magazine.

"Who are they?" the veteran, a survivor of World War II, asked, slightly raising the muzzle of his gun.

“Old Man Mikhail, this is Luna, the team doctor from the shooting team, and this is Sofia, she is a nurse.”

Thomas paused, then pointed at Wei Ran and said, "He's my partner. He's a photographer, and we've brought something to the children."

"Photographer? What's your name?" Old Man Mikhail asked warily, his submachine gun almost touching Wei Ran's chest.

“Victor,” Wei Ran replied calmly.

"Let me see your camera," Mikhail asked warily, glancing at the submachine gun hanging on Wei Ran's chest.

"no problem"

As Wei Ran spoke, he pretended to reach into the gap between his lower back and backpack as cover, and took out the Nikon SP from the metal notebook and waved it around.

“Dad, he really is my partner,” Thomas said.

“I am responsible for the children,” Mikhail said. “Go inside.”

"Come with me"

Thomas led Wei Ran and the other two up the stairs to the second floor, explaining, "This used to be a fire station, but it was later converted into a school."

After the war began, many orphans who had lost their parents were taken in and cared for by the teachers here.

How many children are there here?

Thomas answered the question with almost no hesitation: “38.”

Before Wei Ran could ask any more questions, they had already arrived on the second floor.

There is also a sliding security door here, with a thick, semi-transparent plastic sheet sewn onto it.

At this moment, a thin woman who looked to be around fifty years old was already waiting for them by the door.

"This is Mrs. Ivana."

Thomas gave a familiar introduction, and then asked, "Are the children hungry today?"

"No," Mrs. Ivana and the other three people said as they entered, and immediately locked the security door.

It was only at this moment that Wei Ran noticed that there was a stove made from a sheet metal oil drum at the top of the stairs, and that one side of the corridor was filled with bunk beds, leaving only a passage less than a meter wide on one side.

The upper bunks were for young men, and the lower bunks were for young women.

Moreover, judging from their ages, the oldest is probably only fifteen or sixteen years old, and the younger ones are probably only six or seven years old.

"Aidin hunted down another stray dog ​​yesterday and brought back several kilograms of flour, enough for the children to eat for a few days."

Vladan also traded the cigarettes and wine you sent last time for some food on the black market, enough to last us a few days.

The problem now is that many children have caught colds, and there are signs of contagion, but we don't have any suitable medicine.

Also, we found another child yesterday with a very serious fracture. Aidin went out to find a doctor last night and hasn't returned yet.

As Ivana spoke with concern, she led them to the other side of the corridor, where several semi-open single rooms had been partitioned off by cut-open woven bags.

“We brought some compressed biscuits and medicine,” Thomas said. “And I also brought two doctors.”

"Three people"

As Wei Ran placed the weapon on a table, he reminded her, "T stands for veterinarian, and my specialty is treating fractures."

"Okay, there are three of them."

Thomas said thankfully, "And I brought a lot of small items that can be exchanged for supplies, and I also brought you a few weapons."

“We can talk about that later. Let’s go see the sick children first,” Luna suggested, having also put down her backpack.

“The sick ones are all over here,” Ivana said quickly. “Little angels, come with me.”

"Am I a little angel too?" Wei Ran asked jokingly.

"certainly"

Ivana naturally led him to another private room next door, and pointed to a little girl lying on the bed, sighing, "She is the child with the broken bone, and also the one who is most seriously injured."

"How did this happen?"

Wei Ran frowned as he looked at the girl lying on the bed. Although she was wearing clothes, her hands were swollen like radishes.

The swelling was caused by her fingers being broken.
She is believed to be Serbian.

Ivana sighed, “They think she is, so she is, so this is all her punishment, those fools who were fooled.”

"It's not just the fingers that are broken, is it?" Wei Ran asked.

"And their arms," ​​Ivana said with heartache. "They...sigh!"

"Anesthetic," Wei Ran sighed. "Luna, do you have any experience in suturing?"

"Have"

Luna calmly recounted an incredibly brutal training process: "There are countless corpses in Sarajevo. I've practiced countless times using my hair as sutures."

"Then let's go together"

As Wei Ran spoke, he took the anesthetic that Sophia handed him and carefully injected it into the little girl's body.

Blindfold her.

Wei Ran said, "Then take off her clothes. I suspect she has more wounds than these. Mrs. Ivana, do you know how old she is?"

“11 to 13 years old,” Mrs. Ivana said, making the sign of the cross on her chest.

“Leave this to us,” Wei Ran nodded, gesturing for Thomas to hand the flashlight to Sophia.

"Luna, check her over and see if she has any other wounds besides the fracture."

"Have"

Luna, who had already cut open the clothes with scissors, suppressed her anger and sighed, "The tract is torn, and it's very serious. There are multiple burns all over the body. They're from cigarette butts. I think they're cigarette butt burns."

"Let's treat the fracture first."

Wei Ran looked at Thomas, who had walked away, and said, "Go find some wooden boards or books and magazines, as well as strips of cloth and pens, at least ten pens."

“Yes, we have plenty,” Ivana quickly replied.

"Hold down her shoulders and body"

As Wei Ran spoke, he gently picked up the little girl's broken arm, as if...
As if being tortured, they slowly began to realign the broken and dislocated joints.

On this morning before the sun had risen, Wei Ran, a half-baked veterinarian, slowly began to repair the little girl's war-ravaged body.

But even with his superb medical skills, he knew that even if he could repair her body, everything she had experienced would probably be a nightmare for the rest of her life.

So who are the fascinators in this war?
As Wei Ran used pencils of various colors as splints to fix the little girl's broken finger, he couldn't help but start thinking.

Serbs?
Are they Croats?
Or perhaps the Mu people?
No, the Fassil agents have hidden themselves; they've hidden behind the scenes of the war. Hidden beyond the reach of Dragan's sniper rifles.

In this boundless reverie, Wei Ran used pencils and textbooks as splints to fix her fractured fingers, metacarpals, arms, and even ribs little by little—as if she were wearing a ridiculous armor called books, knowledge, or so-called civilization.

Will she get pregnant?

As Wei Ran took the needle holder and began stitching up the little girl's laceration, Luna asked with concern.

"Maybe," Wei Ran answered truthfully in a hoarse voice.

"This war."

Luna sighed, and asked as if in resignation, "Will this war end within 10 months?"

"I I don't know"

Wei Ran shook his head, even though he was a historian and even though he knew the exact time when the war ended.

If not.

Luna wiped her eyes. "She will eventually die, in a more humiliating way."