The Washington Post
September 12, 1992
CAJNICE, Bosnia – Dushko Kornjaca used to be a doctor, a healer of the sick. But when factional warfare broke out, he swapped his stethoscope for an assault rifle and turned into a Bosnian Serb warlord fighting under the name “Commander Turtle.”
Kornjaca has the looks of a mystical hippie. His black beard is Castro-length, and his hair is tied back in a ponytail. Orthodox icons are scattered in his smoky office, and a silver cross dangles from his neck.
“Time and destiny made me become the commander of Serb forces here,” he said. “Every Serb boy is born as a soldier. He is peaceful if you are peaceful with him. But when his territory is threatened, he is a vicious fighter. That is the situation with me.”
Kornjaca means “turtle” in Serbian, and while he says it is his real name, others say he has adopted it as a distinctive, easily recognizable nom de guerre.
By warlord standards, Kornjaca is young, just 32, and he wears ordinary military fatigues. A pistol and dagger are strapped to his belt, but that is standard gear in these parts. Nobody leaves home without them.
As the war grinds on in Bosnia, there is a surplus of two things in Serb-held territory: chaos and warlords. About two-thirds of the former Yugoslav republic is in Serb hands, but the territory is split among warlords who, were it not for a common enemy, would probably be fighting each other.
Some warlords have official positions, such as mayor or army captain, but exercise proconsular powers. Others have no official duties but head paramilitary units that give them the brute power needed to bully civilians and even militia forces. They have an eclectic assortment of names — “Major Mauser,” “Duke,” “Captain Dragan”, “Commander Turtle.”
One way or another, most are linked to Serbian President Slobodan Milosevic or Serbian ultranationalist leader Vojislav Seselj. The warlords sustain themselves on the profits of pillaging and smuggling in their domains, but they get a helping hand from their backers in Serbia, receiving weapons and gasoline.
“Milosevic has done a great job for the Serb people, more than anyone else so far,” said Dushan Djukic, a warlord in the north Bosnian city of Bijeljina. “Serbs should be infinitely grateful to him.”
Djukic is a warlord without an official position. His paramilitary underlings refer to him as “Vojvoda,” or “Duke,” which is the title used for monarchist Serb generals in World Wars I and II.
He recently provided two American journalists with a display of clout. Djukic wanted to show a video about alleged atrocities against Serbs, but the city was in one of its frequent blackouts and there was no electricity to operate the VCR. He called the electric company and ordered the city’s power supply to be switched on. It was.
Djukic is not the only warlord in Bijeljina. The city has a large military barracks used by former units of the Serb-dominated Yugoslav army, and Jovica Savic is their leader. He goes by the nom de guerre “Major Mauser” and despises Djukic, calling him a “war profiteer.”
In Cajnice, Commander Turtle represents the purest breed of the category of warlords known as Chetniks. They trace their heritage to the monarchist guerrillas of World War II, and they say they are battling to reassert the historic right of all Serbs to live in one state.
Kornjaca’s office is half museum, half church. There are a couple of sad-eyed icons on the shelves, and the walls are covered with portraits of famous Serb generals, people such as Draza Mihailovic, the World War II Chetnik commander who collaborated with the Germans. Mihailovic was executed by Yugoslav Communists after the war, but his memory is now undergoing a Balkan-style revival.
Kornjaca has many titles. One is “defense minister of the Serbian Autonomous Region of Hercegovina.” Another one is “commander of the Cajnice War Committee.” But the title that makes soldiers and civilians snap to attention here is the more concise Commander Turtle.
Kornjaca ducks questions about how many combatants he controls and how he managed to become a Chetnik don. He is not the kind of person to whom sensitive questions are put more than once.
He’s the boss of a broad swath of territory in eastern Bosnia where vicious “ethnic cleansing” by Serb forces killed many Muslims. His domain includes Foca and Visegrad, cities that were dominated by Slavic Muslims before the war but now are Muslim-free.
Commander Turtle turns on the charm when he is with people he wants to impress rather than imprison. He speaks softly, with a doctor’s monotone. He chuckles and offers cigarettes to visitors. He smiles and says Muslims are on a jihad against Serbs. But it becomes clear in an hour-long talk that he has embarked on a holy war against Bosnia’s Muslims.
“We will fight for eternity,” he said, stubbing out another cigarette. “That’s the Balkans for you. We’re a mixture of Asians, Romans and Slavs. Strange people. Our destiny is war and constant migrations.”
