Friday, April 2nd, 1999

Novi Sad Bridge Is Falling Down

     From the beginning, I knew all of this was a dream. It was too good to be true. I was in a state in which you are neither awake, nor asleep. Rare moments of joy when you can be wherever you wish to be. Then it started...

     First I heard a terrifying crashing sound and distant shattering of glass. I instinctively dived out of my bed and crawled as for from the window as I could. Dogs were barking in fright and my younger brother started screaming calling for Mom. I could here explosions and the sky lit up, probably from anti-aircraft fire. A thought flashed through my brain - there will be more. And then, the most horrible sound in the world. I think I will never forget it. A sound that makes a person to realise how small he really is, humiliating him in his helplessness before something so powerful and intimidating. I don't know if the missile flew exactly above our heads, but at the time it surely seemed that way. The only thing left to do was to pray that the missiles were as accurate as they said. A second later, the whole building shook. The shutters broke, the rest of the window cracked and the front of the building started crumbling. I thought - it's over. We ran down into the shelter in panic where there were a lot of our neighbours already. Everyone was asking: "What are they bombing?" No one knew, but no one dared to go and find out. We could only wait. The panic slowly ebbed away and was replaced by anger. "Why are they bombing us of all people, fuck their nasty mothers" (local curse). What have we done to cross them? Why don't they go and kill the moron in Dedinje. Why are they bombing my children?" - a neighbour with a big moustache yelled. Since nothing else could be heard in the next 15 minutes, my sister's boyfriend and I got out to see what was happening. We didn't have to look around for long. As soon as we were out, we saw it....

     "Fuck, the bridge is gone" - we exclaimed simultaneously.

     The Sun had just started emerging, giving the Danube a specific red colour. The metaphor was more than obvious. The bridge looked like a wounded wild animal, slowly sinking deeper into the muck. He seemed to be apologising for not being able to carry couples in love on their way to the Petrovaradin fort. As if he was sorry to have allowed his own destruction. However, he didn't stand a chance. A missile, ironically named after an eradicated American-Indian people, hit him right the centre.

     In front of the bridge was a crowd of policemen and soldiers and a bus driver with sweat still pouring down his face. We heard later that if the bus had started driving toward the bridge just a minute earlier than it did, there would have been 50 more funerals in Novi Sad that day.

     A friend of mine sent me a letter that said: "My deepest condolences to all citizens of Novi Sad, and to all people who had the chance to carelessly cross that bridge at the end of a summer day on their way to the fort. The Danube looked like a real river under that bridge, fast and powerful, not like the swap we have in Belgrade. When viewing Novi Sad from the Petrovaradin fort, the Danube seemed to be holding the city under siege, surrounding it, and then, suddenly, the bridge would cut across the siege and break it."

     The next day, 50,000 citizens of Novi Sad attended the "funeral" of the bridge. Many cried, feeling that a part of our city and a part of us had passed away with the bridge. For us, the youth, the bridge was always there, something unchangeable and eternal, while the older people remembered how Hitler had destroyed a bridge at the same spot in W.W.II. One of them told me: "We, the older people of Novi Sad, knew that the iron giant was not a work of art. What's more, it was ugly, robust, crooked like a dog's tail, but it was ours and thus the most beautiful and dearest in the whole World. The bridge was a monument to our emotions. Even trucks were not allowed to cross it, let alone tanks. I think a new bridge should not be built in its place. The two supporting pillars of the bridge destroyed by Germans should be joined by two new pillars to keep the fear alive. Four pillars of bridges that were - a warning for eternity. I salute you, my friend."

Dušan,
22 years, student