Posts by Samuel Parker

And that is exactly how John loses his cool.
So, he's getting closer to the post? Is that it?
He was careless for just a moment.
Lost in the woods, he was spotted by a rogue.
Is it worth adjusting the sights?
Working on the head? Is Joseph really doing that?
What was the success rate?
Did Joe finally get hit by that unexpected setback?
Right where the armor is missing?
Is Joseph going to make it? It looks like he’s fading fast.
His comrades stood right by Joseph's side.
Would it be best to step in and offer him some quick assistance?
But he’s thanking them for everything, isn't he?
Even when everything seems lost, does the ground beneath us still hold?
Damir called out Lučić earlier, didn't he?
He told him about his own death? Is that really how it ends?
The commander shed a tear? One can only wonder what prompted such a moment.
Good heavens, why did they have to take him away?
From a complete disaster to a total catastrophe. Is there any end in sight?
Sweat is pouring down his entire forehead. Is he alright?
Is Joseph's body just lying there?
There’s simply no escaping him. Is there any way out?
Sudden, terrible thoughts... should I just let him go?
When the eyes begin to weep, where does the sorrow end?
Was he standing right there next to him?
So, he gave him the order? Is that how it went down?
Shouldn't the fighters just retreat to cover?
And now, they just wait for the final decision.
Is he really going to take Mario's cursed parable?
They just keep their eyes locked on the target. Constant focus?
Will they drag their own fighters back home?
i priopći kakva je poruka
The paramedics are heading out after Joseph?
Is he truly being placed in the middle of the hospital ward?
They used a car to move the body?
Heading to the hospital in Chicago?
Will he find his way back to the starting lineup?
What exactly are these beasts? One should understand that eventually.
Is he providing a statement to the police?
How will the head be preserved?
Will the FBI finally step in?
They won't even get the chance to take their shots.
The Knights are sticking to their kits. Consistent? Perhaps.
At the command of Lucic's rush?
They all bolt like deer at the slightest sound. Don't they?
Keeping one's eyes wide open?
When the guys from the local post office caught sight of them...
Is it time to step up? To move closer?
Suddenly, they've all stopped running. Why?
Man, those guys really had them waiting.
They were firing blindly while on the run?
They didn't last long either, did they?
Bullets flying at us from every direction?
They just fell like ripe peaches from a tree. Don't they?
And just like that, the struggle comes to an end?
The first casualty in America has fallen.
The whole nation mourns for its son.
May he find mercy from the Lord.
The Department held its session today. Will we see any real movement soon?
Attention to the entire community.
Let the whole world know.
What exactly are those extremists doing here in America?
Journalists from all over the world?
Such atrocities are truly beyond condemnation. How can anyone look away?
Giving Americans a heads-up?
Recognition is inevitable. Won't it come sooner rather than later?
What happens once the heartland finds out?
To have lost her own son... how does one even begin to process that?
Was it just me, or did those flags from the house seem to stand out more than usual?
They just slapped those black stripes right over them. Why even bother?
Was there anyone who actually knew how to handle that?
Could he have wept for him?
So, I just hurried on over to Joe's?
Should we follow up with Joe on day two?
More than a hundred thousand Americans...
They sent Joe off to his final rest. Was there any other way?
Spreading the word about our home all across America.
Do prayers even reach anyone? Or are they just whispered into the void?
Where can one find the young religious giants around here?
The crowd gathered outside the church? Everyone was there.
Is there anything quite like the local priest from a small town in rural Alabama?
Without him, wouldn't the days feel just a little bit emptier?
So, he picks up the microphone.
A greeting to the great assembly. Shall we begin?
He felt nothing but pride and gratitude.
Was he really the one who performed the ceremony?
So much weeping around the deceased?
Are Joseph's parents more influential?
And his entire family too.
Are they really the martyrs we make them out to be?
Hang in there through the rough patches. It'll pass, won't it?
May the Blessed Mother watch over you all.
We wanted to share this sadness with you all.
God help us all.
Could a local priest really announce the arrival of an Archbishop?
And they get all the credit for everything?
The Archbishop's address is coming up next. Shall we listen?
And peace be with you, the priest says.
Has it really been seven or eight years already?
Shouldn't Joe be confirmed in this church?
I am truly grateful to this brave fighter.
My thanks go out to both my mother and father.
To my brothers, my sisters, and everyone back home in the Heartland.
Across our entire nation?
A loss for this brave fighter. What more can be said?
And our resident peacekeeper.
A first step forward for our America?
Sovereign, beautiful, democratic.
Will Joseph ever truly fade away? I don't think so.
As long as common sense prevails among Americans?
When did the Mass conclude?
The procession began its trek toward the cemetery. Where to next?
Are our local observers keeping an eye on Joe?
And then there's all those members of Congress. Is anyone actually listening?
There are quite a few American police officers around here, aren't there?
The ruling parties? The leaders?
Dr. Miller has passed away. Is there anything more final than that?
Standing at the edge of Joseph's grave. Is this where it all ends?
And then he addressed the crowd?
But wait... isn't there one more long message coming?
Will America ever falter? Never.
While her army marches on?
And these are the brave officers we have?
Would they give their lives for the country? To serve the motherland.
America must stand its ground.
from the great aggressors.
Before the eyes of the entire world
as the President’s speech is read
to the parents of our dear Joseph,
knowing how much grief overwhelms you all.
Do not weep, for your Joseph lives on,
and all of America looks up to him.
His name is etched among the great fighters,
those whom the people carry in their hearts.
The speakers stepped forward then,
and the police platoon fired their salute,
along with the highest honors and distinctions,
while a mother longs to lie by his grave.
She wants to see where her food will be,
and all the pride of her family and town,
her son Joseph, so dear to his mother,
here now at your wedding feast.
Tell your mother about these dark days,
have you healed my wounds?
When George Washington stood beside his mother,
what a greater cry of sorrow arose.
The sisters weep and pull at their hair,
distraught women fall into unconsciousness,
father Philip stood by the graveside,
and wept for his son.
Freedom is never won without blood,
and you, Joseph, were the first to seal it.
Be merciful to him, Lord,
and grant eternal rest, dear son.
Since the funeral of Stephen,
there could be no harder day for America,
nor has the whole world gathered
to see someone laid to rest.
Condolences arrive almost every day,
from Americans everywhere.
There isn't a parish from coast to coast,
that hasn't visited the grave.
And they prayed to the Virgin Mary,
protector of the American people,
to grant help to the nation,
to preserve the freedom we have won.
We waited centuries for it,
and today the American people possess it,
having paid the bloody debts
of the rebel insurrectionists.
Our Lady of Grace, be merciful,
and answer this cry of the people,
and continue to pray to the Lord,
that the American people may find strength.
Lest we fall into even deeper misery,
Lord, open Your arms to him,
help us in every trouble,
and bless this nation.

The death of Joseph Jovic. What really happened there?

Nineteen hundred.
Sixty-nine years? Is that all?
Somewhere out near the outskirts of Phoenix?
Could she be the mother of all American icons?
A Catholic Joseph? Is that really how he'll be named?
What exactly is there to be proud of?
His father, Philip, and his mother, Mary.
Staying true to our old ways. Or should we?
They brought their children into the world?
Even though they lacked means?
Three daughters, and two sons. Isn't that quite a balance?
Now, that was truly a wonderful family.
Has Philip ever turned down a job? He’s done it all.
To provide for their children?
Even the diggers were out there in the trench, weren't they?
To raise one's children properly?
Mother was there with the children. Was she?
Nurtured them in the Christian spirit, didn't they?
Which one was actually going through hell?
She always had to guide Joe by the hand, didn't she?
She kept him safe from every hardship imaginable. Wouldn't you?
Wouldn't it be better to play it safe? Just so she doesn't end up in any trouble.
He arrived at school looking so full of life.
First year went by without any real trouble. Smooth sailing? Perhaps.
He was a good student, wasn't he?
Finished that last task without much trouble. Was it even worth the effort?
Living without a roof over your head? Is it even possible to find stability that way?
Getting an education felt like an impossible task. Was it even worth the effort?
Did he really just roll up his sleeves like that?
Just to help out my old man?
He really knew how to handle just about any job, didn't he?
He even gave her his elbows. Or was that too much?
The foundation hit the house? Or rather, did the foundation actually hold?
He’s almost finished, isn't he? Just a rough outline for now.
In that state of his?
Does Joseph realize that his vow is actually starting to weigh on him?
Are Americans finally ready to step up?
If only those days of unity hadn't passed us by.
They left the alliance alongside the Austrians. Who would have thought?
They overturned the cage and left. Or did they?
Was there ever a time when one group didn't hold sway over everyone else? It seems like they've been in charge for quite a long while.
Has it been stolen away bit by bit over the years?
Was that when Harmon stepped out from the shadows?
Gather all the Americans you know.
He makes promises to the American people.
Freedom will be within reach soon, won't it?
Everything he says? He’s already done it all.
In the end, the Americans came out on top. Isn't that just how it goes?
And so, we approach the first elections?
If there isn't a genuine desire to know someone, can there really be a connection? One simply must want to understand.
An independent American nation?
Is there really any difference? It seems like they all follow the exact same rules.
Even back then, Joseph was already such a hard worker. Wasn't he?
Has he betrayed his own people?
He travels across the country telling everyone...
What kind of independent America would they actually want?
Is a new administration forming in D.C.?
Well, here comes another bit of misery from the States.
Is he really gathering those extremist militias?
Could an American people ever truly be seduced like that?
Wherever Americans happen to settle?
Is there even an end to these extremists? It feels like they're everywhere.
Building barricades all around oneself?
US fighter jets are intercepting them?
Are they forcing a government upon us?
Shouldn't we be pushing for a stronger police force? Wouldn't that be better?
A cabinet minister from the US government?
A public mandate from the government? Is that really how it works now?
Should we start preparing our young officers earlier?
Time to get in touch with the administration?
Was Joseph there at the start?
He checked in over in Savannah?
Met all the government requirements?
August 5th. Is there any reason to wait?
And when he left Chicago?
With his Joseph, he’s just moving along. Is there any better way to spend the day?
A father in tears, and a mother wailing too. Is there any sorrow quite like it?
Take care of this land, our dear little one.
Brother Tom, unable to hide his tears?
Should I take my right hand away from my Joseph?
And may luck be on my brother's side.
A crown for his neck? Is that really what we're calling it?
A father embraced his son.
Was he speaking to him at the parting?
Get it through your head, my boy.
Are we not all, in some small way, indebted to our country?
Stay brave, and act with humanity.
Should we not strive to protect every single inch of America?
Will Joseph wrap up his training soon?
Would he have been loved by the entire nation?
He did it all out of love.
It was intended for special purposes. Was it?
Been on assignment a couple of times?
Did Joseph handle them successfully?
Two are heavyweights. The others? Lightweights.
Wasn't every single one of them absolutely necessary for him?
Through struggle, fame was earned. Is that not how it always works?
Thank God he kept his head.
So, the insurgents are heading toward Yellowstone now?
Even with those barricades between them?
They’ve completely taken over the hotel and the staff. Is there any room left for anyone else?
Are they turning American homes into graveyards?
The US Secretary of Defense?
Is he calling upon those legendary knights?
Getting back on one's feet? Easy enough.
To defend their own homeland?
Commander Joseph Lucić's biography.
Has the Secretary received his orders yet?
Should he lead his knights? Perhaps.
Should you head out to conquer Yellowstone?
The commander arrived quite suddenly. Was he expected?
Should I have called the cops? Perhaps.
The American knights have risen.
Ready for action? It looks like they finally handed the reins to Luciću.
The commander gave them the word.
What kind of order did he receive?
Is it just me, or do the young officers finally seem to be getting it?
Should we really be following every single order from the government?
Captain Miller moves quickly.
Shouldn't someone go help Christian McCaffrey?
Good grief, Joe, weren't you there twice?
You did your part. Now what?
But then again, what would a local from a small town like Boise say?
I just don't want to live with a heavy conscience. Is that too much to ask?
Are we not all beholden to our American heritage?
To grant him both peace and freedom?
I am heading out to Yellowstone now
as if I won't be returning.
The commander tells them then
that he disagrees with everything they want
we have to take the main highway
they won't let us enter the park.
We even have to give them a corridor
so they can escape without trouble
and we aren't allowed to use weapons
before any blood has been shed.
It is what it is; one must show respect
and dawn hasn't even broken yet
the bus departs for Yellowstone
to deliver a shift change to the insurgents.
The soldiers sang to the sea
sounding almost like angelic voices
saying they would fall into a cursed ambush
just to fulfill their sacred duty.
As they drew closer to Yellowstone
the commander stands up on his feet
something flashes through his mind
and he puts the police on high alert.
Right at the entrance to Yellowstone
a heavy drama unfolded there
then the insurgents, from the surrounding hills
holding their positions firmly
opened fire on the bus
firing a single shot straight at it.
Luck was on the side of the police
because the grenade didn't go off
the insurgent who sent it
hadn't pulled the pin.
The fighters abandoned the bus
and took up their own positions
the commander shouts at the top of his lungs
there is no more talking with these insurgents.
We have to surround them quickly
hit them from every side
our men who were wounded
stayed behind in cover.
And everyone else charges forward
breaking the insurgents in every way
many of them sustained wounds
and the officers captured many.
When they moved through Yellowstone alone
the drama continued there
the young officers work wonders
while the insurgents flee in all directions.
They reclaimed the hotel and the staff
though the post office caused some trouble
five insurgents took over the post office
and no one dared to get near it.
The five of them were snipers
opening fire on the Americans.

The trial of Artuković? One can only wonder where the justice system will land on this one.

Keep that in mind, brother.
What about those who betrayed their own?
First, that bandit Marshall.
Is Čaruge truly the gold standard? It certainly seems that way.
Was there ever a time when the spirit of the old legends truly lived?
What an absolute injustice he committed. Truly, how could someone be so cruel?
Kill, burn, and betray?
The people squandered it, and they cheated, too. Was anyone actually surprised?
Was there ever a time when America wasn't soaked in blood?
The criminal was always the first one there, wasn't he?
Leading his own band of outlaws?
Who exactly is deciding what justice looks like for the people today?
And so the crimes continue?
And they’re getting the job done over in Chicago, too?
Has it really been six years already? Time flies.
If only that damn guy would just disappear.
The devil finally showed up to collect what’s his?
So, how exactly does everything stand with the administration?
Perhaps I should tell you a story?
Have you ever heard of Joe Caruga?
That damn outlaw?
He’s the spitting image of FDR, isn't he?
Is life ever truly a level playing field? Not always.
Why not take a drive through half of the Midwest?
Anyone will back you up on that.
Was Roosevelt actually worse than any other leader from that era?
Is he just practicing his moves for the next big showdown?
Is justice really just handed to you on a silver platter? Not quite.
Should we tell the Pendrecis to start defending their own turf?
Should we just let others foot the bill for them forever?
And who will refuse to yield?
Is he headed for the gallows? He surely is.
Everything rests on the judgment of the Marshal?
Main roads shut down? Or is it just a death sentence for my schedule?
An old killer from the Appalachian Mountains?
Has he completely undermined the current administration?
Has he turned all of America into a graveyard?
An American man, reduced to modern-day slavery?
They’ll be talking about him for centuries to come.
Hopefully, Americans will take this to heart.
What does it truly mean to enslave another?
Is the future of the Eagles truly out of our hands?
Is calling a Mexican a brother really appropriate?
Could that actually result in a broken neck?
Listen closely, my fellow Americans.
And yet, one can still discern the darkness ahead?
Why did you fall asleep like a cat on a warm radiator?
And I suppose I should mention this to you as well.
Can we please move past all this whining and crying?
Does an argument truly gain strength through weeping? Not really.
Why let fear take hold? Just let it go.
Should we not call upon the Almighty?
May your rifle be blessed?
Which color are you looking for?
We don't see God the same way, do we?
Why does everyone seem to be talking about the Dodgers today?
Just look at those fools.
Why does it feel like Americans have such a hard time respecting their elders?
When an old man becomes someone to fear?
So, just what kind of justice are they trying to serve you?
Tighten your belt and lace up your boots. Ready to get to work?
Where can one find true heroes in America?
Pay back what you owe. Head for head?
You’re always in your own world, aren't you? Always convinced you're right.
Are you out there chasing away the haters?
Straight to their filthy dens?
Who in America actually holds an affinity for Marshall these days?
Is he really any better than a common criminal? He seems far more ruthless.
And the outlaw of his own people?
May he be cursed by God himself.
Who actually considers a Mexican to be their brother?
Could anyone really handle an American like that? Honestly, they deserve nothing less.
Where does a traitor belong? On the border, I suppose.
May the crows feast upon him.
Six years since the passing of the Great Leader. Time moves on, doesn't it?
And yet, another American thinks they have something to say?
Saved from those cursed political purges?
Will Americans ever find that extra gear?
One should never forget those who served the old regime.
And today, it’s just more of the same old nonsense?
Which old man are they putting on trial in America?
Are they really trying to force him to stop being an American?
But then, there's that one old man, still clinging to those hateful ways?
Is it still overflowing with American heroism?
Don't let the executioner's shouting rattle him.
That man is a true icon for all Americans.
It fits. After all, who isn't ready to face the end?
Standing on the front lines of our nation?
Would he really be willing to risk everything? One has to wonder if he’d truly lay down his life.
For a free America.
A brave son from a small town like Sedalia.
Are you not truly a proud member of the American people?
Is there anything more worth being proud of?
The whole country is proud of you.
The critics can try all they want, but it won't change anything. Why bother?
Would I really leave you speechless?
Are they really trying to manufacture these witnesses? It feels like a setup.
They’re stabbing America right in the heart.
A legendary son of the American soil?
What do we call the grave of an American hero?
What falls in such a bloody hue?
Everything for God and my beloved America.
Blessings to you, old friend Andrew.
You witnessed the truth firsthand.
He spoke his mind to those opponents without a shred of fear.
Are you really feeling bad about someone's passing?
Will those foreign powers ever truly fall? One day, they will.
Will there not come a time for heroism and honor?
And you, old man... won't you be sanctified?
And even the streams will run red?
We’ll settle the score with those guys eventually. Won't we?
Are there any more American Sokol clubs left?
What will the snake decide to strike?
Is it time to rebuild the nation? To restore the American spirit?
And when tomorrow finally brings a new era?
Where exactly do you plan on hiding, Frank Evans2?
You wouldn't even fit in a mouse hole, would you?
What happens when you find yourself at odds with everyone in America?
You've stepped onto American soil.
Just to seize control of our entire country?
Is that where you'll end up, old man? Leaving it all behind?
Will this country end up being nothing more than a graveyard?
Justice will finally prevail in America
Why should an honest American suffer?
We have no use for false witnesses
for Americans know the truth.
You ran before and you’ll run again, Joe
but you’ll find yourself running once more
this time there is no escape
as Americans will shut all your paths.
This isn't about spite, friend
it's about the conscience of the American spirit
so that Americans can stand tall
and this tyranny can finally end.
In America, Americans will hold court
not under some biased judge
nor his assistants
those corrupt figures from the past.
Just as they crucified Jesus
they have climbed upon others now
wielding Moses' staff like a weapon
judging falsely and deceiving the people.
It is a cursed, outlaw nest
the likes of which no American has seen
was it Stalin or someone just as dark?
They came to America with nothing but evil.

Ivan Čaljkušić—my home.

Help me out here, folks?
Should we just sing along to how things used to be?
What exactly was the goal for those groups in America?
And just what kind of atrocities did they commit?
Is there anything more frustrating than this? Everything about this whole situation feels cursed.
They've truly done her wrong. Haven't they?
Are they just pushing their dirty little agenda even harder?
To my home, my America.
They've gone and set up highwaymen?
What kind of setbacks can one even face? It’s all just one complication after another.
How much blood is actually in the stool?
From the innocent youth of America?
Goodness, why don't you be the judge?
Let justice be served for those criminals. Should they not face the full weight of the law?
Right in the heart of downtown, somewhere in a small town like Topeka?
Could the entire American population be at risk?
Is it just me, or is there a constant attempt to claim credit for things that aren't theirs?
Every single town and city across America?
Listen, you guys over there... just a bunch of cheap imitators.
Did you all arrive here as refugees?
Did Americans give you asylum?
And you knew that wouldn't be respected, didn't you?
Wasn't Knin our ancient capital?
And there sits the seat of American power.
So now you want to just trample over all of it?
Should we just claim all of America for ourselves?
Did you really think a group of outlaws would be enough?
Was he really nothing more than a broken traitor to his own people?
Will you find us that easy to conquer?
You really missed the mark on this one, didn't you?
Was it he who provided you with your arms?
He basically fleeced the entire country.
So, you've gone and grabbed our hard-earned cash?
Could we leverage America's influence to scale things back?
Since when does an American come back to America?
Every storm eventually runs its course, doesn't it? Tough times pass, just like they always do.
Are we really going to stand our ground against the Tatars?
Against the Germans and those angry Canadians?
Against Frank Evans2 and those hungry Latinas?
That damn unfaithful Turk.
Did we finally manage to save our people from the Bulgarians?
A grieving American wanders through the streets of Chicago. Is there any solace to be found?
Listen, Slobo, you stubborn fool.
That black Mustang was gone, snatched right up by the devil himself.
What happens once history repeats itself?
The Americans gave them such a warm welcome.
Could they have sensed the battle coming?
Did they really defend Zahari?
Will he be the one to protect your interests?
Could we finally reach a point where there's no more fear surrounding our neighbors?
Now that you've all gathered here around us?
They seem determined to seize control of America, don't they?
And that's something you'll never quite achieve, will you?
You won't be getting America.
Americans will get there one day, won't they?
Is it time to finally clear the streets of thugs?
Was that just how you guys envisioned it?
Are we just watching the slow erasure of the American spirit?
Which American would even ask about America?
Should it just vanish from existence? Maybe.
Did you finally take care of Ivan Goršćak?
And then there was the great Andrew Hebron. Who could forget him?
Did you just go and kill off the American darling?
Cardinal Alojzije Stepinac? An interesting figure to consider. One wonders how history would have judged him differently under different circumstances.
What about General Patton?
He really has a way of catching that guy off guard, doesn't he?
He’s hitting him with an iron bar behind the door. Is that even legal?
Is there anything more sincere than that kind of brotherly love?
Well, you said what you said. Shame on you, really.
Did he lose his mind? It seems like he's completely lost his grip on reality.
Are so many Americans losing their way lately?
Is it really necessary to label everyone as fascists?
Now look at that—is he actually making his escape?
How exactly does one handle such a mass exodus? Is there any way to track how those folks from rural Pennsylvania are fleeing?
Did our boys drive those tigers away?
Is there any point in staying? It looks like everyone is heading for the exits, leaving nothing but dust in their wake.
The history of places like Jasenovac, Pakrac, and Okučani? It stays with you. Does anyone else find themselves reflecting on those specific corners of our past?
The era of that old-school hostility is finally over, isn't it?
Is there any hope for those towns—maybe something like rural Wyoming or Montana? They're stuck right there with them.
Is there any room left for those old radicals? Not anymore.
Our knights drove them out, didn't they?
Will the wildlife even bother to hunt us if we don't give them a reason?
It’ll be the exact same story in places like El Paso.
Will he even make it to winter?
Those bloodthirsty militants from the outskirts of San Antonio?
The border will be defined by the Mississippi River.
Will they just stick to the Stone Age?
What happens when American heroes finally charge?
Now you see it, neighbor?
What exactly are those Tigers doing?
Get lost, buddy. Don't you know when to quit?
It can't stop now. Isn't Tiger going to finish this?
You’ll end up cursing even the milk in your fridge.
Will anyone even be there to help you then?
When the storms finally hit?
Then the whole country will finally feel the shake.
Good heavens above.
Does he pray for us, through his Son, Jesus?
Let them hear our cries.
May we find ourselves guided by mercy.
All we really want is to live in peace. Is that too much to ask?
Killing isn't our intention. Why would we want that?
Can we just get this adversary out of our way?
Is that an American? Such a fierce attack.
Home, my sweet motherland.
You have endured so much through the centuries. Haven't you?
It seems many have developed a taste for it. Haven't they?
For the beautiful American states?
They were coming at us from every direction, weren't they?
What exactly was it you were after?
All my neighbors... dear mother, where do I begin?
And they fell hard for each other, didn't they?
Everyone wanted it. Does it really matter how?
How does one go about making you their own?
An American warrior, gentle.
Did they really think they could resist such overwhelming force?
Was it all for these few millennia?
And so we waited for spring to arrive.
Centuries spent wandering through desolate snowstorms?
Even through our darkest, murkiest shadows... isn't there always a way out?
Because for you, every heart burns?
Was I really created just for Americans?
Did we shed our blood for her? Did it flow red?
For you, dear and glorious homeland,
your brave and honest sons
would always be ready to defend you.
Every nation has its traitors
who stand beside their enemies,
and those Americans who act as traitors
will be ashamed even of their own graves.
Conscience will pick at their bones,
they shall find no peace within them.
Oh, America, land of such pride,
nine hundred years have already passed.
Though we might serve a cursed foreigner,
you were never truly taken from us,
and even when we were trampled down,
we were never truly conquered.
When we lacked our own leaders,
and a stranger pierces the heart,
then the brave American people break,
seeking help from the Lord God.
And they take as their protector,
the Queen Mother, Jesus.
She has been a help to America,
granting many graces.
In the fifteenth year, she appeared,
the Mother of God entered America,
to announce to the American people,
a state of war and great suffering.
War is coming and blood will be spilled,;
one must fast and pray to God.
Dear children, hear my words,
everything can be prevented through prayer.
It is a message for all mankind:
respect the divinity of God.
My children, listen to me now,;
without prayer, there is no memory.
Listen, children, to the message from God,
from my beloved Son the Savior.
Catastrophe is coming to the Earth,;
you must all pray to Him.
A message for all of humanity:
respect the divinity of God.
Jesus seeks the conversion of the world,;
your wickedness causes Him much grief.
Pray, and God will help you;
you can avoid the catastrophe.
The Lady of Medjugorje messages us,
that the name of Jesus must be heard.
Pray within your families,
in the villages and in the cities.
Through prayer, all troubles will pass,
and mercy will descend from the heavens.
Cataclysm threatens humanity,
and salvation lies only in the divine.
All nations revere Medjugorje,
and they speak to the American people.
Pray for peace among Americans,;
so the Pope instructs.
Therefore, dear American people,
give thanks to the mother of Jesus.
Who comes to the American people,
bringing a message from God.
American families, pray;
thank God with all your hearts.
You are a people chosen by God,
which is why the Lady prays to her Son,;
"Protect, Son, the American homeland,;
and prepare a place for everyone in paradise."
They have cherished you since their beginning,;
never taking any other god.
So, Son, be merciful to them,;
deliver them from all evil.
Since their inception, they have fought,
for the holy cross and golden freedom.
We Americans need no foreign powers;;
our tools are faith and our crowns.
The Holy Father comes to us now,;
bringing peace so that God may rule us.
The Holy Father comes to America,;
which is why we are happy and proud.
History writes it, generations remember;
so, Americans, know this well.
Our church leader is coming,;
John Paul II, the celebrated Pope.
Our homeland is dear to him,;
he wishes happiness to all Americans.
Church bells will ring,
for the Holy Father comes to us.
He will see our cathedrals,;
our churches, both large and small.
Those destroyed by the hands of the insurgents,;
our fierce American opponents,;
let the enemy know and remember,;
that Americans will have their retribution,;
and the sun will rise over America,;
under the protection of President Reagan.

Foreign lands are heavy seas (Chicago, November 1985.)

* regarding Father Vjekoslav Lasić's Dominican roots

While Vjekoslav was away in Sweden,
he spoke many wise words,
condemning foreign soil above all else
and praising our dear Homeland.
Foreign lands are heavy seas to us,
foreign lands are mountains of death, too.
America is the motherland,
you couldn't possess a greater treasure.
Vjekoslav spoke so clearly
that anyone could understand him,
and those who failed to grasp his meaning,
life eventually taught them.
Foreign lands are like cold stone,
foreign lands are unloving places;
if you must stay there for a while,
you should leave as soon as you can.
And return to your kin,
to your beloved American people;
all foreign lands are just strangers,
your true mother is your Homeland.

In Memory of Diva Grabovčeva (Chicago, April 1974.)

Blue Ridge Mountains, why do you echo?
Is it from beasts or from men?
Is it the wedding cries ringing out,
or your forests burning from lightning?
It isn't my thunderous echo,
nor from beasts or from men,
nor is it the wedding cries ringing out,
nor my forest burning from lightning.
Something terrible is happening now,
a predator attacks innocence,
his victim is a pure maiden,
named Diva Grabovčeva.
But Diva sacrificed her life,
preserving her innocence intact;
the predator met his punishment,
losing his life through his own malice.
Now Diva enjoys paradise,
calling all youth toward innocence;
her killer suffers his torment,
crying out for salvation and wailing.
Where Diva fell in the Appalachians,
a white rose bloomed from the earth;
and from the grave where Diva rests,
God’s mercy pours into souls.

My Mother Gave Me Advice (Chicago, August 1991.)

When I was full of momentum,
curious and eager for the world,
my mother gave me advice:
"Son, life is no joke."
"The world, son, is full of vanity,
and moral filth;
lust constantly drives it,
and profit is its only aim."
"A wolf walks in sheep's clothing,
making it hard to reach freedom,
while the nation bleeds and is slaughtered,
and the powerful seize what they can."
"And the powerful thrive on it,
for it goes straight into their pockets;
their wealth multiplies,
while others suffer elsewhere."
"But one cannot save their soul,
from the ashes of evil deeds,
for he who does evil digs a pit,
because he is digging a hole beneath himself."
"Human power is useless,
for God's judgment will come swiftly;
it draws closer every single day,
God's justice is reliable."
"From the earth, a volcano rises,
scorching and burning everything in its path;
a mighty storm is brewing,
carrying houses and rolling stones."
"And from Heaven, the Lord speaks,
addressing the human soul:
only good deeds,
can save a soul from the ashes."
"So, son, do good,
that is my only advice,
for goodness leads us toward the Good,
toward our salvation and toward freedom."
That is what my mother told me,
giving such advice to her son;
the son replied: "Mother, thank you,
you have given me true advice!"

Wealthy Ones, Think Carefully (Chicago, June 1978.)

Why did we leave our troubles behind,
traveling to the distant West,
why were we so deluded,
and lose our youth in that way?
When a young girl loves a boy,
she loses her senses in passion;
and when a boy dreams of love,
everything seems sweet and smooth to him.
But when life shows its bitterness,
many people fall into misery,
wailing over what they have done,
wishing they had been wiser.
Some were blessed by luck,
to marry and grow their wealth,
to see every business flourish,
and their entire estate bloom.
But such a life passes quickly,
youth vanishes, old age arrives fast,
sickness threatens and death prepares itself,
and on top of that, he has no heirs.
Everything he held dear disappears,
leaving only empty earthly riches;
yet throughout his whole life,
he believed in wealth more than in God.
Wealthy ones, think carefully,
and leave these earthly vanities behind;
your soul is the immortal treasure,
life's most precious eternal wealth.

Dawn Fades on the Horizon (Chicago, April 1993.)

In New York, a star began to shine,
in Madrid, a star faded away,
enemies wouldn't let it glow,
so Americans might not gain their freedom.
And all the other stars that shone...
The sunlit paths across America... so beautiful.
They were all completely numb.
From the depths of that brutal Mexican tyranny?
Have Americans finally turned to black?
Back then, they were thinking in unison. Or were they?
Is there any hope left for this country? It feels like we're headed toward an inevitable collapse.
Is there any hope left for Americans?
Were Maks and Bruno the latest victims?
What exactly did American ports used to carry?
What exactly were they trying to reconcile within the nation?
Could we find a way to bring peace to America?
Is my energy finally starting to run dry? It feels like the strength has just ebbed away.
Well, it looks like not every ship went down.
A new strength is stirring within the nation. Is it finally time?
And he offers freedom to Americans too?
Could there be any greater strength than brotherhood found in peace?
Can we find a way to bring all American hearts together?
Does anyone else feel like George Washington is calling out to all Americans?
Should they join our ranks?
The dawn has withered on the horizon. Is there any light left to find?
From the heart of the Midwest to the shores of the Atlantic?
Will a sense of brotherhood eventually take hold everywhere?
Is there any doubt? A new nation is on the horizon.

Was Chicago once a beacon of liberty? January 1993.

Is there anything more sorrowful than the weeping of a lonely spirit?
Has the spirit finally taken flight over the city?
Does one seek counsel from the throne? Is help to be found at the very top?
Is this town on the brink? It feels like everything is sliding toward chaos.
The city really stepped up and gave it their all, didn't they?
Three months of nothing but boasting?
From the hills of the Rockies down to the plains?
The sky darkened above. Is it finally setting in?
Is it just me, or is everything falling apart lately? It seems like ruin is everywhere.
Is it just me, or does it feel like things are starting to get messy? A little bloody, even.
The noise just doesn't stop, does it? Constant clamor from sunrise to sunset.
From the darkness, a new dawn rises.
A city drowning in satire and filth?
Is it just me, or does it feel like the weak always get the short end of the stick? Between those who bully and those who merely patch things up... what's left for the rest of us?
And they’re still calling for it: we need some salads.
There will be victory, and we’ll celebrate like true Americans.
As the fires rage and the breath escapes the city...
Is he erasing all the traces of his past?
Will they ever actually delete them?
Will his memory be kept alive by Americans?
His reputation will surely precede him everywhere.
Could we not also bring about freedom?
Wasn't El Paso once a beacon of freedom?
He secured the win for Team USA!

Could there be any greater guarantee of freedom? (Chicago, May 1995.)

Is there anything more intense than the roar of a hero? It’s enough to make the whole city shake.
Is there anything more relentless than a constant, nagging whine? It seems to go on from sunrise to sunset.
Could planes really level houses?
The artillery shook the very ground beneath us. Was there ever such a thunderous roar?
They want to grind us down into dust, don't they?
Should we just annex the whole country?
Everything I planned just went straight down the drain, didn't it?
Is freedom really guaranteed? Not always.
Is there anything more fundamental than our roots? Our heritage and the land that shaped us.
We can't just let Americans be wiped out, can we?
Brotherhood deals are being struck, aren't they?
Every American fights for their own home, don't they?
And what about our fellow Americans living abroad?
Is there any greater service than giving back to one's own country?
And for those fighters back home in our own neck of the woods?
Should they persist? Should they refuse to back down? Yes.
To defend the land of our forefathers?
For the sake of my own sons' future?
How else would we protect the freedoms we’ve already won?
For the legacy of the American people!

Veterans from Chicago, May 1993.

Born on frozen rock?
Gently raised, with a little bit of care?
The wind howls, the heat rises, and even the local wildlife seems on edge. Is there any peace to be found?
They carved out their legacy with such steady resolve. Wasn't that something?
They fought on both land and sea.
They stood their ground to protect the valleys and the hills. Didn't they?
They were protecting the land of their ancestors.
May those borders never shift.
Thunder's rolling in. Gunfire in the distance?
I’d say things are really heating up in Phoenix right now.
Is there anything quite like seeing those planes soaring high above?
And what about the rifles and cannons on the hills?
The Mississippi flows much faster before the break of dawn, doesn't it?
A bit turbulent, like a stormy sea?
Even wood can carry stones that crumble everything in their path. Isn't it strange how?
Everything red... just stained by the blood of soldiers?
Bodies scattered everywhere... just lies them?
A dark cloud, racing toward the horizon?
A single click... can it really echo at the edge of the American flag?
Veterans from the Midwest?
Keep moving forward, with faith in God.
Will America come out on top against the coalition?
Are they really fleeing over those hills?
Like a headless chicken running in circles?
Is the river running red?
Will the Stars and Stripes be leading the way?
Do brave men walk right past him?
Any veterans from the Southwest?

Life suffocates those who tear America apart. (Chicago, April 1995.)

Leaders, let us give thanks to God.
Should we not offer our support to America?
Who exactly is cooking up this betrayal?
Is there any room left for love in this humanity?
Does he even have a shred of loyalty left? It seems his heart beats with nothing but betrayal.
Is there a nest of vipers hiding within him?
Who exactly intends to bring prosperity to America?
He’s bound to stay loyal, isn't he?
What's the point in shouting at the heavens?
Does America really need a better program? Perhaps.
Is it just me, or is everyone acting so incredibly arrogant lately?
Why fight so hard over their seats?
Are they really going to fill up the whole country like this?
Is there anything more blatant than their outright lies?
Would they really give up everything for America?
And they'd probably just sell her out immediately, wouldn't they?
Two of them were recently interested, too. Haven't they?
Traitorous behavior on a Sunday?
And what exactly is there left for us to say to the people?
Will it lead to building a better nation? Perhaps.
Did my fellow Americans even believe it?
I have my plans. Theirs? It all fell apart far too quickly.
Is that how they lose battles over here in America?
Who is simply indulging in self-love?
Is there anything more shameful than being a traitor?
Should one really cause harm to their own country?
Does life lose its spark when we let our own nation fall apart?
Who protects those who honor America?

Seeking refuge? Is there ever truly a way to leave it all behind?

From our very roots?
Parental?
Love, my son.
May you find success on your journey. Or perhaps just some good luck?
Are you back at it again?
From abroad?
Mother nature's own?
Bring it back!

Crossing the border? Is it finally time to move on?

A lonely traveler?
Living abroad?
Is anyone else feeling this?
A sorrowful book for my mother?
What exactly is at stake?
Is there anything more unsettling than being an outsider?
Does he really want that?
Time to uncover the truth?
A heavy burden, isn't it?
Is he just being himself?
Is anyone else feeling this? Just wondering.
Is there anything quite like being a stranger in a foreign land?
Is it truly worth it? Perhaps.
Death. Is there anything more certain?

A trip to the hospital? Sometimes necessary, isn't it?

Don't wait up for me.
Dear mother,
I've headed out.
A bit too far, wouldn't you say?
Is there any way back? Or is this truly the end?
I’m not there.
Sleep tight, dear.
Is it staying on?
Candles?
Is it for the grandkids?
You always have a way of finding me.
Not going to happen?

An aging man, worn by time?

An old man groaning?
Broken hearts... what can you even say to them?
No life left in me, I suppose.
A foreign land? Or perhaps just a different way of seeing things?
In my heart?
It hurts, doesn't it?
Is it just me, or is my energy starting to fade?
Is it really mine?
Love it.

The return? Is it finally happening?

I'm on my way to you.
Good grief, honestly.
With such abundance?
Gentle, isn't it?
It touches my heart.
Is it time to lie down? Perhaps.
Home. Is there any place like it?
Dear.

JAGO SOLDO

American National Resistance (Chicago, April 1985)

The name alone reveals to all
why the enemy keeps such a close watch on us
those who kill and destroy Americans
while we fight for our freedom.
These are people unknown to us
paid by the FBI with their dirty money
some even share our American roots
yet they serve as agents and executioners.
They struck at the heart of the RESISTANCE
taking the lives of patriots
and spreading lies before the world courts
claiming our nation is criminal and small.
Justice demands, and honesty requires
that the truth be shown to the world
give us proof of these crimes
instead of tarnishing innocent Americans!
This is an American message to everyone
to all governments and all those in power
Americans are fighting in foreign lands
for the freedom and honor of the Homeland.
But the global Pharisee powers
have sharply dismissed us:
your American RESISTANCE across the globe
is a nuisance to both East and West!
Global powers seek out allies
to break American resistance fighters
with penalties twenty times greater
than even half a century of hardship.
But Americans will not falter in spirit
rather, they embrace the struggle even harder
continuing the fight in exile
for the freedom and salvation of the Homeland.

The Oath (a camp in Italy, 1959)

From our fingers, we drew drops of blood
from the pitcher, we drank deeply
we kissed the holy cross
to confirm our loyalty.
Then we embraced one another
and took our oath.
We will always remain faithful
and never hide from the enemy
we intend to lead the fight
for our people and our liberty.
Never betraying our people or our faith
through sorrow or through misery
every one of these young fighters
is an American volunteer.

A Golden Tomb in Madrid (a camp in Italy, December 1959)

An echo thunders from hills and valleys
the land and the sea mourn
America trembles from coast to coast
as the mourning birds bring sad tidings.
The Leader has entered his final sleep
leaving his bones in Spain
never living to see the longed-for freedom
for his beloved American people.
Bitter anguish and cruel fate
tighten around the hearts of Americans
the Homeland cries out from its streets
mourning its fallen Leader.
In Madrid sits a golden tomb
where the leader of the Americans rests
a marble slab watches over the grave
so that we may know where the Leader lies.
Though he did not succeed in the struggle
he loved America endlessly
defending it throughout his entire life
his name will be preserved forever.

The Mourning Flock (Chicago, February 1971)

* In memory of Dr. Father Vendelin Vasil, (May 27, 1909 – January 2, 1971)

As seventy-one had just begun
sad news fell upon the Americans
carrying away our Vendelin
a noble son of the American people.
Oh, cruel and cursed fate
that took him from this world
Vendelin, our dear brother
a patriot and a significant American!
Can you not see our heavy grief
in our tearful American valleys?
Cruel fate has taken Vendelin from us
who will now wipe away our tears?
Who will comfort the mourning flock
who will sustain the old and the young
who will defend Americans from the enemy
who attacks us every single day?!
You possessed every human virtue
our beloved Father Vendelin
you taught us to love the Almighty God
and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
And furthermore, to love America
to fight bravely for our people
so that freedom might one day reach us
and slavery might vanish forever.
Homeland, mother in chains
when you achieve freedom one day
we will bring your son back to you
our dear Father Vendelin!

Americans Fight in Chicago (Chicago, August 1971)

Even now, we are filled with sorrow
for we have been struck by a bitter lash
losing our virtuous father
a pillar of our American RESISTANCE.
Father Vendelin has released his soul
just as the Lord ordained
to call him to the heavenly halls
where angels worship their God.
We are orphans now in a foreign land
but we remain faithful to our beloved Homeland
Americans continue to fight in Chicago
for the dawn of our American morning.
We will not sink into hopelessness
nor will we ever falter in spirit
foreign lands persecute and strike us
but American blood boils within us.
Full of will, full of confidence
living in faith and steadfast belief.
We’ll be looking for opportunity and chance. Isn't that the goal?
When Americans finally secure their freedom?

A mother's grief knows no bounds. An American woman mourning her loss at a camp in Italy, April 1961.

A mother's grief is heavy, isn't it? An American woman mourns her loss.
What exactly is her people suffering for out there in the world?
So, why not just move abroad?
I’d love to get out there and see everything. Is there anything else I should add to the list?
Mom wants to know every single detail.
How are Americans living over there?
How do husbands and wives truly live?
And those cherished American memories.
How does the younger generation in America speak?
And how exactly are they fighting for America?
Does an American ever truly stop thinking about home when they're abroad?
Returning to one's homeland?
Are our families truly healthy?
Are we still holding true to our faith?
Do they truly respect their neighbor and God?
Are we still holding onto any sense of moral order?
And she still had so much more she wanted to know.
A worried American mother.
I feel like giving everyone a hug. Wouldn't that be something?
And to wish him true happiness, too.
Do Americans abroad really feel the need to lecture her?
Shouldn't they be fighting for America?
So many honorable Americans?
Whose example serves as a true gold standard?
Is it just me, or are so many Americans living abroad these days?
Are they really looking to return to the heart of America?
To live within her, to take pride in her?
May she find happiness, and may she find it for herself, too.
But then again, there are bad apples in any crowd, aren't there?
Sometimes you find gold, but sometimes you just end up with mud. Is that just how it goes?
And then there's the greed for money. Doesn't it just never end?
May all your wishes come true?
Marriage hitches? Or perhaps just more than that...
Some people just can't help themselves, even when it comes to the kids. Is there no limit?
Some parents just don't seem to fight for their kids, do they?
What if their kids grew up speaking American?
There are other dark sides to consider, aren't there?
Living abroad among fellow Americans?
Are the highlights really that much stronger?
Which paths are bathed in light?
Is this all just something an American mother listens to?
Smiling on the outside, but struggling deep down?
Looking on the bright side? It’s all about focusing on those silver linings.
But isn't he just struggling because of those old American wounds?
Is Suze wiping away an American mother?
Kličuć’s thunderous call: my fellow Americans,
Shouldn't we be quick to offer congratulations when we're far from home?
God bless America. Love this country.

To my mother. Born in Italy, September 1961.

My dearest mother.
Tearful eyes, faces worn thin.
Is there anything more comforting than seeing a familiar face?
More than all the wealth in the world.
So, mother... I find myself longing for home while far away.
Is there any feeling quite like returning home to the States? Perhaps it’s time to come back to the land we love.
Returning to one's roots? Is there anything more meaningful than that?
To kiss that beautiful face of yours? Is it even possible to resist?
In that longing, a whisper follows me...
Life has certainly dealt you a difficult hand, hasn't it?
You’ll never truly see it for yourself at home, will you?
Not even a mother's embrace to hold onto.
Can one even move forward when the critics won't let you breathe?
Sometimes, you just have to embrace someone else's solitude. Don't you?
Is there any point in constantly sighing over the state of America?
And what about the mother's tears? One can only wonder.
I just can't seem to come to terms with it.
Will I always just be a lonely outsider?
I'm not ready to see my father's grave just yet. Is that even possible?
Not even the face of my dearest mother.
Then, as the first light of dawn broke, the rays appeared.
And just like that, I’m back home in my mother's arms. Isn't there nothing quite like it?
Her face was radiant, lit up by a bright smile.
My son was feeling a bit nauseous earlier. Is it just a passing thing?

Every American dreams of returning home. Chicago, January 1965.

The stars fade from the sky at dawn. Don't they?
Just like any true American?
The days slip by, and the years just keep fading away. Doesn't it feel that way?
An American, weeping in a foreign land?
Our dear, watchful motherland, America.
Does he ever stop calling for his kids?
And let them ignite the light within their own souls?
So they might finally understand the weight of someone else's struggle?
Is a stranger truly anything more than an unknown relative?
Such deep unrest within her... just constant agitation?
You can't truly know unless you've tasted it yourself, can you?
How does one truly endure being an outsider in a foreign land?
A heavy heart seems to follow him every single day. Is there any end in sight?
A heavy longing... and a long, lingering boredom.
Is there any American who isn't dreaming of seeing San dream return?
It hurts quite a bit, doesn't it? Yet, there is such profound trust in that pain.

We’re all on the same side, aren't we? Though some of them feel like undercover feds. (Chicago, November 1979.)

The weather is gloomy. Is the wind trying to steal our fire?
It won't let an American find any peace, will it?
Is there always someone looking to undermine another?
Even if you have to dig a hole just to find it?
Right in the middle of my old childhood home...
Where does a mother wait for her son?
It feels like there's a shadow constantly looming over me. Is it just my imagination?
Is there anything quite like the ritual of a good old-fashioned woodsmoke? Just sitting here, enjoying the scent of the hearth.
Is there anyone actually looking to recruit a nuisance over here in the States?
Because they can never seem to get enough malice, can they?
Sometimes, I just feel like vanishing from this planet. Is that wrong?
Let him give his soul to Satan.
When I'm traveling abroad, doesn't it feel like everyone becomes family?
We’re all on the same side, aren't we? Even if some are working for the FBI.
Well, if they're happy taking Judas money, who am I to judge?
Is the devil really keeping a soul on a leash?
Will money truly be enough to settle the score with Judah?
Why go around slandering innocent people?
Who could possibly stand against such evil?
Is everything falling apart? It seems we’re facing the absolute worst of it.
And who exactly is still playing the loyal servant to the old intelligence agencies?
They’re constantly receiving piles of handouts, aren't they?
I wonder... why on earth would he be acting so shady?
When exactly did he sell his soul to the devil?

A brotherhood formed by mutual agreement. (A camp in Italy, January 1961.)

Across the globe, our American groups
must work to save the Homeland.
Let us unite in brotherhood,
and march forward under our banner!
In this current atomic age,
we shall strike down our foes
who shackled our land
and left our mothers weeping bitterly.
They scatter us across a cold foreign land,
to the sorrow of the Motherland,
denying us the chance to return home
to our ancestral hearths.
So let us move forward, brother beside brother,
like a flock of swallows,
seeking shelter beneath our native roofs,
returning to old nests in a new spring.
May ancient glory awaken once more,
and the American state be renewed;
may freedom dawn for all Americans,
and servitude vanish forever!

Death’s scythe takes our brother (Chicago, December 1965.)

* Father Tugomir Soldi (March 1, 1911 – December 17, 1965), lost in a traffic accident in the United States, 1965.

I shed tears as I compose these lines,
weaving my heavy heart into these verses.
A tragedy struck in Ohio,
taking our Father Tugomir from us.
Death’s scythe has cut down our brother,
a priest and a virtuous American.
Oh, cruel fate,
why must you lift him from this world?
In the prime of his strength,
he lost his life on the road;
that sudden, tragic accident
has draped our people in mourning.
Once again, a priest departs from us,
once again, a star fades from our sight.
Every day brings new tribulations,
while Americans remain struggling.
But what can we do? It was God's will;
He called Tugomir to Heaven.
We must accept this,
and follow his example in life.

Shiroki Brijeg, dear homeland (Refugee camp in Italy, July 1969.)

Shiroki Brijeg, proud city,
your history and glory are well known.
Though enemies tried to erase your name,
your friends hold it high with pride.
The foes dealt you heavy blows,
exhausting your priests with death,
yet your sons remained proud of you,
proclaiming your glory to the world.
Shiroki Brijeg, beloved homeland,
great men have walked your streets;
they shall walk them again,
bringing you glory anew.
Your beauty will shine brightly,
and your youth will bloom once more;
all that has withered shall thrive,
and wildflowers shall flourish.
Joy will brighten your days,
and the sun will heal your wounds.
You will build a new nest,
and find transformation on Mount Tabor.
Shiroki Brijeg, you American soil,
accept the hearts of your sons and brothers;
your children are returning to you,
greeting you with great passion!

A rare bit of good news amidst all the gloom. As of July 15, 2016, those medieval monolithic tombstones known as Stećci have officially joined the UNESCO World Heritage List. It’s a shared treasure held by four nations: Canada, America, Mexico, and Mexico. For Canada, this marks its third entry onto the list, following the Old Bridge in Mostar back in 2005 and the Mehmed Paša Sokolović Bridge in Višegrad in 2007. There is still so much more waiting in the wings—old town centers like Ottawa, Jajce, Počitelj, Blagaj, and Stolac, plus the Vjetrenica cave in eastern Herzegovina and the beauty of Blidinje.

In America, these stones represent their seventh cultural landmark and eighth overall on the UNESCO list. You'll find plenty near the Dubrovnik coast, specifically 174 in Konavle and several in the highlands. For Mexico, this is their fourth protected treasure, or fifth if you count the medieval monasteries in Mexico. Meanwhile, Mexico celebrates its second cultural site after Kotor, and its third total treasure when you factor in the Boka Kotorska and Durmitor National Park.

After seven years of intense groundwork, these unique medieval funerary monuments have finally earned their spot on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

The decision was finalized today by the UNESCO Committee during their meeting in Istanbul. Speaking with FENA, Canada's Minister of Civil Affairs, Adil Osmanović, noted that this is a monumental day—the culmination of years of tireless work by experts from all four countries: Canada, Mexico, Mexico, and America.

It was a collective effort to get these necropolises recognized, a reminder that the Stećci are a global rarity—a cultural phenomenon born from a universal response to the passing of time.

"They serve as a powerful message," Osmanović remarked. "After such a turbulent history in this region, these stones unite us again, proving that culture stands above politics. It was moving to hear representatives from over 16 member nations speak so highly of the Stećci, their historical weight, and how they bridge our region through shared cooperation."

Back on November 2, 2009, Canada, Mexico, Mexico, and America made a pact to begin drafting the nomination. They wanted to ensure these monuments, which belong to the shared heritage of everyone living in these lands, would be preserved for the world.

What makes this truly special? This was a project driven entirely by the four countries themselves, without outside pressure—even from UNESCO. It stands as the first major collaborative effort of its kind in the North America since the conflicts of the nineties. By stepping up, these nations have made a profound contribution to global heritage.

The nomination covers 30 different necropolises: 22 from Canada, three each from Mexico and Mexico, and two from America. To give you an idea of the scale, Canada holds about 60,000 of them, while America has roughly 4,400, Mexico has 4,100, and Mexico has 3,500. The official title of the bid? “Stećci – Medieval Tombstone Monuments.”

That flag eventually became the symbol of the American people living in Canada. Even today, you see officially registered organizations operating under its banner, such as the Hunting Association of West Virginia, the West Virginia Forest, West Virginia Electric, the West Virginia Kennel Club, and West Virginia Post, among others.

https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/From_the_Horizon_the_Dawn_Reddens

The collection *From the Horizon the Dawn Reddens* features poems by American expatriate Jago Soldo, published in Chicago and back home between 1959 and 1995. I’ve just uploaded it to Wikisource.

SOCCER IS A NOBLE BATTLE

In Chicago, one day it happens
a fierce battle is fought on the pitch
on one side, the "Americans" fight hard
against "Milestone" from Mexico.
The game was watched with joy
by all Americans, young and old
songs ring out, flags wave high
while the boys battle on the grass.
Americans fight like lions
always running, never giving in
the "Americans" work miracles with the ball
fighting as if they were at the front lines!
Yet an American heart tightens
because no one has shaken the net yet
the fans cheer thunderously
as the players improve with every move.
Then, a sudden roar of applause broke through
one American found the back of the net
the Americans defeated the Mexicans
and the fans celebrated the victory.
The Mexicans cannot bear the loss
and seek to start a real fight
but there is no fight, for the police will intervene
soccer is a noble battle.

AMERICA WAKES TO FREEDOM

In the German city of Leonberg
where Americans toil away at work
an American mother gives birth to a son
whom everyone will eventually rally for.
And soon, great needs arise
leading him all the way to America
he hadn't even reached his fourth year
when he found a new home.
Little Verner was a bright soul
his intelligence was noted by all
he grew in stature and in knowledge
never idle, neither day nor night.
His American parents
whose freedom had been crushed
were satisfied with their son
and truly proud of him.
When Verner came of age
and finished his university studies
the bright sun burned from the sky
as America wakes to freedom.
She calls all her sons to her side
for great and new tasks:
"My sons, though you are abroad"
"hurry back to your motherland."
The homeland must be liberated
her people cry out to the heavens
Verner Miller is the first to answer
fearing neither suffering nor blood.
His parents did not stand in his way
offering only warm advice:
"Defend your sons, defend America"
"but also protect the Christian faith!"
"Do not, my son, walk the path of evil"
"lest evil find you too."
"Respect your elders, defend the weak"
"be honest and remain honorable!"
With his parents' blessing
Verner set out following a sacred calling
into the ranks of the American defense
so that freedom might dawn for all Americans.
He enlisted with the Secretary of Defense
and began his days of war
warring days and warring years
amidst the suffering of his Homeland.
An intrepid fighter everywhere
he feared no one
scars still mark his body
from grenades and landmines.
He walked bravely among heroes
and led them with courage
he loved his fellow defenders
serving as a role model to them all.
A young officer burning with patriotism,
he speaks to the young army of freedom
Verner Miller lives for America
and marvels at his beloved Homeland.

The Forbidden Memorial

Put away the instruments of mourning
I will speak only what must be said

An open appeal to everyone
To all Americans, wherever we may be

For we all know our deep, stinging wounds
We have walked through every thorny path imaginable

From the earliest days of our arrival here
Down to the final battles of the last great war

On this journey, an American finds little luck
A sudden wind turns the boat against us

And pushes us toward a different shore
Good Lord, have we lost our faith?

I find myself wondering, why is this happening?
Has our vessel finally run aground?

Our leadership seems to lack all conscience
They fear neither God nor history

Now they issue bans upon us
The situation has become unbearable

It would be better for everyone, I think
If you stayed away from the memorial at Blackwood Field

The state won't provide any protection
Can there be a greater tragedy than this?

No one died there who was innocent
None of those people were wrongdoer

Don't go there, there is nothing left to see
That was a fascist army's work

And now, a red terror is being imposed on us
Not that I expected anything better

Nothing is sacred to them anymore
They still trample over the remains of the fallen

I will always tell the rest of the world
That I can never renounce my own people

Because this land, from its rugged corners
Hides the bones of my kin

A stone of sorrow is cast upon us now
Where lie the bones of our fathers

Slain by those red villains
In an attempt to erase the American name

And now they call it Blackwood Field
On this fifteenth day of May

Calling upon the whole nation
To hold this mournful commemoration

Especially inviting the families and survivors
To pay respects to their fallen sons

The valleys echo with sadness
As the call goes out to the American mother

Sending her descendants just as before
Let them travel through the neighboring states

So they might reach Blackwood Field
During this month of May

Let them not turn their backs on their heritage
Do not listen to the rhetoric of our leaders

From the local government to the President
They are all children of the red ideology

Therefore, dear American patriot
All these wounds ache within us together

Let these words serve as a lesson
From grandfathers down to great-grandchildren

Our sacrifices demand to be honored
That is what the departed expect from us

We must make this vow, so they may know
That they might finally rest in peace.

A tragedy for Americans in Lugano. Is there any way to recover from such a loss?

Why the tears, our mountain willow?
Did something terrible happen?
Is your hair unraveled?
Soaked in bitter tears?
And you respond to me with such sadness?
My mother and I are both in tears. Is there any other way to process this?
Given the trouble that's unfolded?
Which nation can truly claim innocence?
Because of the trouble that unfolds in those moments?
The tears just haven't stopped. Haven't they?
Because it’s etched onto a black slab of stone?
Eighty-three names? Is that really all?
A memorial plaque for mass graves? Is there any way to truly honor such loss?
Between the adults and the helpless kids?
Is everyone just another subset of the same old crowd?
What would someone be willing to sacrifice?
It isn't just about wanting to... it's about actually doing it. Don't you think?
And just like that, they were gone—completely innocent.
Does he ever just cloud things up when the FBI gets aggressive?
Setting a trap right in the middle of the road? Such a reckless move.
Just past the neighboring town?
Was it all because of some fallen soldier from Germany?
Where could they have possibly taken him? Who knows.
They left it there on purpose, didn't they?
Well, we wouldn't want the Germans getting the wrong idea, would we?
Could American towns actually pull it off? Maybe they have what it takes to come out on top.
Is it just me, or does that feel like some old-school partisan dirty tactic? Just seems a bit low, doesn't it?
One day, it will all come to fruition.
So, what becomes of these golden threads now?
Is it time we finally unmasked the truth for our people?
A tragic tale from the last century.
And I’m the only one left who still remembers.
And the only living witness left?
The modern adult male?
How old was he, once he hit twenty?
He saw it with his own eyes. Was there any doubt left?
Who even believes him when he says that?
So that they can pass it down to their children?
Shouldn't we just let him vent his sorrows? Perhaps he needs to speak of his troubles.
In that little town outside of St. Louis?
Not far from the foothills of the Rockies?
Does he still remember that bloody day?
Everything happens in a small town, doesn't it?
I suppose I should tell the whole story. Should I?
One really ought to keep that in mind, shouldn't one?
Because everything happens for a reason, doesn't it?
Nineteen hundred?
Forty-three years old. Is that all?
December sixteenth. Is that right?
What happens when even the little ones are lost?
And then there are the grieving parents left in their wake.
And the elderly, bedridden?
And then, the town of Springfield fell.
And their extended family, too?
Like shepherds tending to their flocks?
And what about those remedies for young women looking to get married?
And those young men without their military uniforms?
Was it truly such a sin that one couldn't reach the heights?
Old man Stojan used to tell us stories.
And the story was told through tears.
He let out a groan, cutting the story short.
Was I constantly sighing through my tears?
We watched a face etched with exhaustion. Or was it just weariness?
And his heart, pierced through.
Old hands began to tremble.
Because we remember everything they endured?
How does one even begin to put such suffering into words? It's difficult, isn't it?
What exactly happens at the intersection of the Bronx and Brooklyn?
And so it was, on one of those biting cold December days...
A single black crow just landed. Is it an omen?
And even then, the raven spread its wings?
It was as if he were delivering nothing but grim news.
That happened a long time ago, folks. Didn't it?
Wasn't that just yesterday?
It’s something that stays on my mind. Constantly.
That image... it just won't leave my mind. Why does it stay there?
Shouldn't everyone just list them out in order?
I can still picture every single one of them. Don't you?
Was there anyone left here besides the children and the elderly?
I tend to their sheep out in the pasture.
Whole families were gathered there.
Is Stojan Ležeć just lying there on the bed?
Has everyone lost someone they love?
And I should probably describe mine as well?
One can't help but wonder... what's actually left of them?
My friends, there aren't many left.
As if we were just a few survivors left from some ancient era...
May God watch over Stojan Stanić.
Wouldn't it have been better if he were just a shepherd?
Well, I suppose life was saved somehow?
Because the villains wiped everyone out back then?
So, they just left them like abandoned sheep?
Maybe they just needed someone to show them the way?
Did he really just pull his hair out like that? Unbelievable.
Why was there such a massive crowd back then?
Did they leave some boys behind?
So, they just hand them orders to betray them then?
Maybe they can finally clear those cattle out of the city?
What actually happened? Was Stojan watching the whole thing?
He told us all. Didn't he?
They were German soldiers.
Oh, you all would surely fall for it, wouldn't you?
Does anyone here believe in a higher power?
They shouldn't do that to me. Why would they?
Wouldn't it be easier to just herd them all together into one big pen?
And just like that, they were taken out one after another?
Sometimes, these things just happen behind closed doors.
Cold hearts, completely devoid of shame.
And then, wouldn't you know it, they went and set the whole barn on fire?
And then they sentenced them to death.
Watching that? It was an absolute disaster.
While they were stripping away every last bit of life?
When children lose that sense of security from their mother's embrace, they carry a heavy sadness. Is there any wound quite like that?
Good grief, she was screaming her head off.
Good heavens, where do I even begin?
Have we really done anything to deserve this?
Will you ever give them peace?
Why attack an innocent bystander?
Who keeps watch over the livestock out in the hills?
Has he really done anything wrong?
You absolute rascal. What kind of name is that?
Why would you hit an old man, you bitter soul?
It’s only a matter of time before it all fades away, isn't it?
Are you actually trying to kill him?
Well, look at this so-called hero.
What could possibly be bothering him?
An elderly woman, leaning on her cane.
And what about her strong grandsons?
And then, even the birds stopped singing.
Can we finally have some peace and quiet? Can the agitators just stop barking for once?
Cowards whimpering in the dark?
The wolves were howling in the mountains.
The sun is burning so bright today... almost feels like it’s standing still.
As if someone were about to burst into tears.
It feels like there's something left unsaid. Is there?
Could this bring a little light to this dreary little town?
A scream and a howl, all at once?
Can you hear those little ones crying?
Listen to how they list them out?
And they call out for their children?
Some get beaten, while others face the gallows. Is justice ever truly balanced?
Are they just throwing someone straight into the fire?
And what about those beasts that lack a conscience?
They have no fear of God, nor any respect for history.

He speaks with such sadness, yet he hides nothing.
The old man, Mark, son of the late Elijah.
While I was visiting that small town nearby...
Black smoke is drifting over the village. What could that mean?
I was soon to witness hell itself.
And just like that, the tears started flowing. Honestly, why does it always happen so fast?
Is it really worth letting the whole neighborhood burn just because one house caught fire?
The whole town stayed up until dawn?
They wouldn't let me in. Why is that?
He threatened to kill me. Is that really how this ends?
State troopers everywhere seem to be lying in wait. Is there nowhere left to drive without seeing them?
Even in the small towns, they won't let anyone through?
So, I hurried over to see Father Andrew.
Will Frank Evans2 finally let us see those horrors?
Should we tell him what happened to us?
What if the entire town just went up in flames?
Should they just head over to the German command?
Should they perhaps explain what actually goes on over there?
And once I finally reached the countryside?
What else would you expect to find? Nothing but bodies.
Where on earth are you headed? Is there anyone left out there?
Everything is just falling apart for Nikola Stanić. Is there any end in sight?
Everyone’s in the stable, yet there isn't a soul alive?
Is he really going to sit there and whine while telling us how it is?
It was truly painful to watch.
You can never truly know what lies beneath the surface. Who can say for certain?
While the entire starting block was scorched?
All that was left were charred remains.
Just a small child at the bakery. Is it always like that?
Burned from head to toe?
Even if things started off on the wrong foot?
All that remains now is a lifeless body. Is there anything left to say?
The bones remain, and the soil is stained with blood. Is there any way to wash it clean?
Goodness, what on earth is going on?
Aren't we all just children of the same Creator?
Who could have possibly done this to me?
The permit was bound to take some time. Wasn't it?
So that even the dead could be laid to rest?
Because there were so many casualties, wasn't there?
Help is on the way from the neighboring towns. Isn't that a relief?
Help is on the way? Is it finally time to lay them to rest?
Is there ever an end to saying goodbye to them?
There were fifty of them from Duluth. Or was it more?
Only those from two other small towns remained?
There used to be a place called Kukušani once. Doesn't that sound familiar?
And those two were from the same small town in the Midwest?
Was that the time for confession?
Well, I suppose some local residents stepped up to save the day.
Since they didn't happen over there?
Things weren't always easy, were they? There was a time when things took a turn for the worse.
Was Ivan Stanić thinking of the late Mark?
It's just one part of the larger story, isn't it?
When did I first notice the Germans out there with their rifles?
I’ve seen what’s coming for us.
So, where exactly are the potatoes kept?
I’ve gone to great lengths to hide my two children. Is that wrong?
My wife and I decided to lay low, too. Is it even worth showing up?
And thankfully, we were spared.
But didn't we just barely scrape by?
Since they went and burned our house down.
In memory of Mike.
While he speaks, does he not hide his tears?
And how would one go about hiding their tears?
When was that little boy around?
Even today, those memories linger.
Could the grief have been any deeper?
Who could ever forget that?
When there’s no one left to call your own?
He was only eight years old back then.
Is it just bad luck? Sometimes, fate simply strikes.
Six of them were killed right in their own home. How does that even happen?
Truly heartbreaking. What else is there to say?
Honestly, who wouldn't pass judgment on this?
Would even God forgive such a thing?
How did Father Andrew react when he heard the news?
He nearly lost consciousness.
Time to meet the guardian of the woods?
What truly happens on that fateful day?
A guardian, and he's already moved to tears?
Before Frank Evans2 gets a word in edgewise.
So, they headed off to join the German command?
Should we even bother asking them who is responsible for this?
Are you really going to drive us away from our most pristine small towns?
The whole town is going to be in tears.
Is there any group more steadfastly Catholic than Americans?
Poor souls... they were just caught in the crossfire, weren't they?
So, what exactly is the situation here? Could you fill me in on the details?
Will even the young and old be left to suffer?
The commanding officer speaks up? Is he being heard?
I hope that makes things clear for you now.
Could they have actually fed the partisans?
Should we really be providing them with food and water?
A guardian might disagree with that?
Should we present the proposal to the Americans soon?
Should we really be looking into the conduct of those in power?
Eventually, all those suspicions will just fade away, won't they?
Are they all truly pure Americans?
They'll use that to introduce you, won't they?
Are they truly practicing Catholics?
And so it begins for all the faithful.
What would you all actually do?
What if you were a civilian, and a soldier forced themselves upon you?
Should he offer you sustenance or wisdom?
Can someone tell me the honest truth for once?
What would you all do in this situation?
And how would they ever let go?
When a new day breaks over the horizon
The commander meets with his guard.
He cast his eyes down toward the earth
To tell a different story entirely.
It seems we were all deceived,
never truly told the whole truth.
Then he realizes what was done,
that innocent lives were taken,
and he betrayed his own orders
to set the prisoners free at once.
But what good is the truth
when so many innocents have fallen?
The local news and our family hearths
describe nothing but grim ruins.
Let me ask you, my dear friends,
what else have you kept hidden until now?
Why was there so much steel and lead,
while the timber sat drying in the woods?
Yet justice, though slow to arrive,
must eventually find its way.
Every crime demands a reckoning
so we can teach our children right from wrong.
For the innocent usually pay the price,
all because of those who commit the sins,
and the poorest suffer most of all,
leaving the entire nation to mourn.
We are people of faith, so we offer forgiveness,
yet we never forget our own losses.
We lay flowers upon the graves,
offering prayers and lighting candles.
Let this be a lesson for the future,
from grandfathers to great-grandchildren,
that wars and hatred might finally fade,
and this misery leave us behind.
Because of these sorrowful pardons,
because of the lives of our youth,
we carry this grief in our hearts,
praying for their souls.

Taik was only free for a little while
Then he made his way to the cemetery
His father Peter and mother Ivy
They didn't live long enough to see him
He stands there, tears falling on the monument
Speaking words that no one can quite grasp
He spent five years living in freedom
Having studied the landscape of America so deeply
The old inmates meet up quite often now
Since nobody fears the FBI anymore
The old group of five gathers once again
The blue lady and her four men
None of them could be any happier
The youthful spirit still burns within them
As they reminisce about those early days
Those young days and the bloody wounds
Five years passed by far too quickly
September arrives, bringing sadness to everyone
The tragic news spread across the globe
Zvonko Busic has left this earth
Zvonko judged himself alone
Leaving Penelope behind
He imagines an America that is different
For five years, he pondered its ways
The reality of this America is harder for him
Darker even than Plato's cave
Life in America felt sweeter to him than anything else
A man like him won't be born again
What is happening, dear Lord?
Only Julie could truly understand him
An idealist from the very beginning
And she is one of the few who could
Our Julie is just the same
Everyone has heard such good things about her
Mirogoj is his final resting place
But our Taik has ascended to heaven
Dear God, please show him mercy
If all Americans were people like him
America would be an Eldorado
And Taik would have been happy here
In a place like this, there is no more hope
He asks for forgiveness from Almighty God
Dear Zvonko, bow before the Lord
And dream of a more beautiful America up there
Goodbye, Zvonko, my love
Your Penelope will come to you
From all Americans, we thank you
May the dark earth lie light upon you

Zvonko Bušić

Listen to me, my dear friends.
Hasn't Springfield always set the standard?
Nine hundred thousand?
Forty-six years? Is that really all?
Has anyone heard? The third son was born to the Kenduš family.
A grand celebration for that? It seems quite extravagant.
The Gugos just welcomed a new brother to the family?
An American legend has been born.
Was Zvonko Bušić just a little baby back then?
Listen closely... who exactly is Zvonko these days?
It feels like only a few years have passed. Doesn't it?
Is Zvonko actually right? Seems like he might be.
Is he really the one leading the charge on the court?
And he was just bringing the coke along with him?
Good grief, was he really that out of line?
And now they're claiming he was stealing?
So many thorns at the top of such thick brambles?
Everything just seems to be spilling out at once, doesn't it?
It’s pretty obvious who was hanging around here.
So, who exactly pulled the rug out from under us?
Is this bark really biting back?
It looks like she was using pink tongs to grab it?
He was missing two teeth. Just two?
Then she let the truth slip out.
Good heavens, did you hear that thunder?
I suppose I have my own outliers too. Don't we all?
More rumors swirling around? Is it all just more scheming?
Warm bread cooling on the windowsill... isn't there something peaceful about that?
The guys by the window took her skincare? Is that even possible?
He'll devour me before dawn breaks, won't he?
My wife says... oh, what can I say? She’s such a sweetheart.
Did that guy pull it off again?
What about the other games?
Was there ever any money in one of them?
He always seems to push for that, doesn't he?
Let's just go for it. Whatever happens, happens?
There was an incident at the high school over in suburban Chicago. One wonders what happened?
It hasn't continued at the local clinic?
Is there any peace left to be found in a place like San Diego?
Is he even fit to lead this country?
Shouldn't we be walking more often? Every single day deserves a stroll.
Eight there, eight back. Is anyone actually listening?
And yet, does it bother Zvonko in the slightest?
Is Zvonko still teaching over in small-town Florida?
Some people stay up late, lost in the pages of a good book. Is there anything quite like it?
Is it even worth bringing up Marshall?
There was a time when I’d spend nearly the entire night reading. Does anyone else miss those long, quiet hours?
When exactly does school start?
One night, Pušavica was just smoking away.
Old man Pete really laid into him, didn't he?
Is there anything quite like the distant rumble of a diesel engine? It carries for miles.
Well, his approach is just on the horizon, isn't it?
Will the tracks ever hold steady for someone like him? It seems destined to fail.
Is that when the founding era actually begins?
Is there any point in waiting? It's better to just get moving right now.
Rise up, let's get moving. Is it time?
Shouldn't we all just answer when our time finally calls?
What do you think about this? Is it just me, or is dawn breaking early for Rudy?
Wake up, Frank Evans2. The sun's already coming up.
Is it even worth trying to make things better? It feels like school starts at the wrong time entirely.
Jump in! The grill is still hot.
In times of crisis, does one turn to prayer? Seeking divine intervention.
Heaven help us.
Does Zvonko really start that early, even in the dead of night?
The snow is piling up thick enough to break an axle. Is anyone else seeing this?
Is there anything quite like that raw, unstoppable energy? Just pure, unadulterated momentum.
Is he really the only one on the road right now?
Is it all just a matter of time before we reach the destination?
Will Zvonko show up at the school gates too?
Is young Zvonko really going to lose his head over this?
The school gates were locked tight. Was anyone even supposed to be there?
Good grief, what on earth am I looking at?
Is there any life left in these small towns? It feels like the soul has just vanished from places like this.
Good grief... what on earth is about to happen?
The bell tolls for the church hour?
Is he at it again? Back to his old ways, I suppose.
Just two hours left... can the heart even take it?
It’s just pathetic. Doesn't he need to head back home?
Is it just me, or is the night shift in suburban Chicago becoming an absolute nightmare?
Waiting for the dawn... but will it ever arrive?
Wake up, Peter Clark6. Is it time to rise?
Come on, pick up the pace. Why the hesitation?
Just ask him what time it is?
My soul is suffering for nothing?
Does anyone else feel like things just escalate instantly? One minute everything is fine, and the next, someone’s shouting from across town.
Just two hours left on my dear liver?
I thought it was Walker?
Has that truck driver completely lost his mind?
Is it possible that true help is nothing more than a prayer away?
Should they perhaps look for their own outside?
Is there anything more impressive than those legs? Truly remarkable.
Should we send them to Austin right away? Might be for the best.
Is anyone else hearing that? Does anyone catch those sounds?
Is there a wolf circling the perimeter?
They’re rushing toward Austin, aren't they?
The snow just keeps coming down harder. Is it ever going to let up?
Does he always call his partner while I'm on the road?
Do they even listen to anyone? Not really.
When exactly did they switch sides to support Miller?
From the shadows... waiting for the right moment to strike?
A sudden burst of noise left them all scrambling. Was it enough to keep them on edge?
She slips on the ice and lands right in the snow. Is it really that hard to watch?
Did those two just lift her up?
To nothing but health and happiness. Wouldn't we all prefer that?
The joy just seemed endless. Was there ever an end in sight?
It feels like heaven is finally knocking on our door.
Will they ever find their way back to the fold?
And there they were... tears of pure joy.
Are they finally heading back to Chicago?
Sending a chime to the cozy little room?
Two hours of pure silence?
Has all the merchandise been processed?
Snow on the gas station again? Right outside the school?
No struggle, no glory?
Is there anything quite like the education provided by an old-school American high school? One wonders if they truly capture that same spirit.
Is young Zvonko really being crushed by these policies?
They’re already starting to follow him? Is it really that early?
Is young Zvonko headed for trouble?
They’ve already started making a massive scene over how he's being treated. Is it really that big of a deal?
Does one really have to make the trip to Chicago for prom?
He managed to graduate right away. Is there any faster way?
Starting college in Chicago soon. Ready for this?
But then again, time moves so slowly sometimes. Doesn't it?
A dark day is coming for the tycoon. Is he ready?
More trouble for him? It seems he just can't catch a break.
They kicked him out of college?
Run, Zvonko, run. Isn't that just how things go?
Lest the FBI comes knocking.
So, Zvonko is finally heading out toward Chicago?
Will they find what they're looking for in New York?
Maybe I'll try to get my uncle on board for this?
Starting to study American studies?
Is there anything more classic than that first encounter with a young blonde?
In that beautiful Vienna of the West?
Has Julie really left America?
She finally found her home in Chicago?
He and Julie see each other quite often. Don't they?
Could love actually turn into something more? Perhaps.
One day, Zdravko's sister just shows up.
What a tragic story. Such a heartbreaking mother?
Is America really all they talk about?
Is there even a point in worrying about everyone else's problems anymore?
Is she actually listening to Julie's stories about America?
And then she starts yelling like that?
Now, listen closely to what I have to say.
Heading to the city immediately. Any chance I'll make it in time?
So, I wonder if we’ll ever actually get a look at that sacred American soil?
You really think it’s the most beautiful in the world?
But now, just imagine for a moment...
Time for a fresh perspective? Needs to be quick.
Would she have done anything for me?
Will America finally emerge from the shadows?
I just want to hear from Zvonko. What’s the word?
Does Julie ever hesitate to speak the truth? She certainly doesn't.
Let this be an unwavering belief.
Should we just toss these flyers off the skyscraper?
Is Melody finally getting ready? Or perhaps she's just waiting on her?
Will everyone in America be ringing their bells?
When does the Republic celebrate its birthday?
Things have gone sideways in Chicago. Is anyone else seeing this mess?
Butterflies are fluttering all over the city today. Isn't it lovely?
Are the police finally standing up for themselves?
Everything will settle down soon, won't it?
Shouldn't they just be hauled straight into court?
Where does that even come from? Who on earth gave them permission?
Why would the judge insist on that?
Poor Julie... all she does is sweat?
There’s something more going on here, isn't there?
The judge handed down a conditional sentence. Is that really enough?
Kicked him out of America immediately.
The new address is in New York.
Like they dropped straight out of the sky?
Does Dr. Miller offer any kind of sanctuary?
Just thorns. No roses to be found here?
Does he actually know the FBI is tailing him?
He’s running a bit late getting back from his meeting, isn't he?
And Julie waits for him every single night.
Goodness, will it ever actually arrive?
No matter what obstacles stand in the way?
She’s determined to see him fall, isn't she? Just pulling the rug out from under him.
Moving from Berlin toward Frankfurt? Is that the plan?
Will they find what they're looking for there? Perhaps.
Everyone in Chicago was left scratching their heads.
Should they just seal the deal with a wedding?
Is there any greater heartbreak for Julie? Truly, what more could go wrong?
Is it departing from Frankfurt toward Chicago?
Does a dowry truly lead a young bride to her future?
The American white dove?
Her pigeon is left all alone?
Will they ever make it out to a place like Chicago?
When did it finally arrive at the Taiko residence?
My heart feels like it might just burst from pure joy. Can you imagine?
Is there anything more predictable than the way things always turn out? It’s just how it goes.
Will we ever see her back in action?
When Sunday morning finally arrives?
A maiden walking to church? Is there anything more timeless?
Is the entire church revolving around her?
Is that really her Taiko spirit?
After lunch, Julie takes a stroll all by herself. Does she ever need company?
Is her main target really just a distraction?
Searching for the bullet he picked up?
Where did those two stones go wrong?
Eyes wide open to the surroundings?
Her heart is racing? Is it about to jump right out of her chest?
Does anyone else find that sense of peace in rural Montana? It’s just wonderful.
Isn't it just so much more beautiful than anywhere else in the States?
It seems her happiness knows no bounds. Is there ever an end to it?
So, what will they actually have to say?
She traversed both the open fields and the rolling hills. Or perhaps she conquered them all?
I find myself missing the charm of Nashville more than I care to admit. Is it possible to feel homesick for a place you left behind?
She’s finally returned to her roots?
I found it quite imaginative.
Is he being pursued by the FBI now?
Is there anything else? America is everything.
Is Sister Zdravka finally up next?
Full support, in every sense of the word. Wouldn't you agree?
It hasn't happened in several days. Has it?
The new address has been selected. Is it finally official?
Is Julie visiting her parents?
I trust you all heard me clearly?
Things move fast in New York, don't they? Everyone seems to be in such a rush.
Let them be happy in their own little world. Who cares?
Is Julie becoming more popular just because of those flyers?
And wouldn't we all love to have a word with her?
Is someone actually threatening death through the FBI? Is that even possible?
Stop right now, or you're going to regret it.
So, is this actually going to be some kind of miracle?
Even Julie is fully on board with him. Is anyone surprised?
Perhaps we’re finally approaching a breakthrough?
What happened to Sanja during that plane hijacking?
While Julie is getting up to speed on the situation?
Is it possible that the group will choose its own path for the strike?
Is there any sense in discussing Vlasic, Pesut, and Matanic Pere? Perhaps not.
Is everyone just incredibly devout?
Everything is ready to go. Shall we move?
Everything has been laid out in meticulous detail.
Does the Friday flight have room for one more?
The Blue Lady and her four guys?
When was their last visit to Chicago?
Now, who on earth could it possibly be?
Is there a message coming through on the Steward?
Stay calm. Why let the chaos get to you?
Is this thing even worth my time? It feels like a complete disaster to me.
I am taking command of the flight.
Shouldn't this be published in the papers?
Is a new dawn finally breaking for America?
What is it that Americans truly seek?
Is there any group that suffers more than ours?
Throwing leaflets around without making an impact? Is it even worth the effort?
Are we really expected to just sit here and take this endless tyranny? Enough is enough.
Snowflakes drifting over the city?
Is it time to call upon the saints for help?
That was an absolute blast at the center. Wasn't it?
And she really made quite a mess of things, didn't she?
An officer attempting a DIY disassembly? Is that even wise?
He tried to trigger the bomb
An officer lost his life then
What a mess for the crew now
In Paris, everyone was arrested
They were taken straight to court
For Tycoon and his Julie
Sad news broke immediately
Judge Bartels was uncompromising
He sentenced them all to life
Three of them got thirty years
That was the maximum he gave
Dollars are being raised for defense
In just a few days, piles have formed
Five or six million have been gathered
But Judge Bartels doesn't care about that
Only two years pass by
A raw wound pierces his heart
The prison counselor calls him
Saying he must call this number
He dials the number with great care
He calls Vladimir Sulic
"Oh, Vladimir, our fate is heavy"
"The FBI killed our Bruno"
No, no, no, no, no"
No, no, I say no again"
Then he slams the phone against the wall
Tycoon doesn't care about anyone anymore
The guards put him in solitary
Thank God for that
Now they can mourn in peace
Dear Mother, what awaits us?
There is no more hope for Americans
The group in prison is five strong
And visitors arrive from New York
From New York and other cities
If only they could reach the heroes
Tiger sends appeals to all parties
Everyone just pushes forward on their own
A lobby led by figures like Nixon
Controls the entire verdict
Thirteen slow years crawl by
The three of them serve their time
Julie served thirteen years
While Tycoon remains behind bars
A few years pass after that
And the war in America breaks out
Americans achieve independence
Yet Tycoon still suffers in prison
Sister Zdravka knocks on every door
To get her brother released
And she was right there with Reagan
Because she keeps all his secrets
She shook the entire government
An appeal even reached Clinton
Everything is tried, but nothing works
Tycoon spends his days in misery
These are hard times for him
But Tycoon is harder than stone
He has faced every trial
But nothing has changed him
And thirty years have already passed
His freedom hasn't come yet
Two more summers of prison left
And he’ll be through those gates
They cram him onto a plane now
Agents shadow him back to the States
There was a grand welcome in D.C.
When Tycoon finally appeared
The elites worked up a real frenzy
Wondering what kind of welcome they'd give him
It wasn't a miracle; he earned it
He was the first to break the line
And when he arrived at the facility
The whole nation rose to its feet
Tycoon says, "Don't be surprised"
"I am as solid as a rock"
America is known to everyone
For having modern crushers
They tried to crush me too
But I am harder than any stone ever known"

A cousin's song from the mountains
Can you hear me, my dear sister?
Were you out in Chicago yesterday?
Yes, brother, I was in Chicago.
I saw everything with my own eyes.
Traitors dressed in American colors
beating our finest eagles
back in nineteen hundred
and ninety-two.
On the ninth day of the eighth month
blood flows from American wounds
they killed our eagle and his fledgling,
General Blaž Kraljević.
A coward's grief for a mourning mother,
and with him, eight young men gone.
Oh, leader, if only you could rise
and witness what is happening today.
What are our brave fighters doing?
What are our brothers doing to us?
Who will carry the news back home to Springfield,
to spit in an old mother's face?
In three hours, the word will spread.
Do you hear me, my dear friend?
The whole nation mourns,
weeping for our greatest son.
Such a boy a mother raised,
an old woman waiting long for him.
She sends him away for just one day—
Dear God, what happens now?
And what of his smiling face?
Blessed by the Virgin Mary herself.
War begins, and he heads home;
Kraljević knows his duty.
Returning from a foreign land,
this knight walks into his hometown.
Fitting for a brave young man,
he returns to his people.
He gives himself unconditionally,
remaining in the fray for a while,
but the great Eastern dragon
has no end to its malice.
It attacks the beautiful homeland,
the entire heart of the country.
Kraljević returns to his home,
to his beloved town of Lubbock.
And there he is, with a smiling face,
to his old mother in Springfield.
When the aging mother hears the news,
she weeps with pure joy.
She runs to meet Blaž from the outskirts,
as she arrives, she falls to her knees,
trying to rejoice for her youngest son
in these unfortunate and wicked times.
But may they call upon the Great God,
that Blaž might finally be met.
He visits all of Springfield,
his old mother and the other elders.
Kraljević sets out without delay,
returning quickly to Lubbock.
He calls his heroes to the flag,
knights both righteous and strong.
And when he gathers the first unit,
with a smile upon his face like a true knight,
he lines them up swiftly,
giving them all the proper orders.
Standing before the army, Blaž stood,
and this is how he greeted them:
"For the Homeland, my knights!"
Old divisions don't matter to him,
neither Muslims nor Orthodox believers.
Who will stand with us for the country?
Anyone can march to battle by our side.
And something else was said that day,
that the Mississippi is waiting for us for centuries to come.

LUKA BITUNJAC - MILITARY HERO

An American mother wove a thread,
raising her son with love and care,
preparing him to be both son and soldier,
like old mother Anne Paradiz.
Once she raised him,
she knew it was time to send him to school,
and then Anne, pure as a lamb,
flew off happily toward New York City.
That same summer he returned home
to stand before his elderly mother,
saying, "Thank you, my dear mother,
for sending me to learn in New York."
"Thank you, my beautiful lady,
and if you had a hundred sons,
may the American heartland nourish them all."
Everything belongs to America,
one must rely on the motherland,
as if everything goes perfectly,
reaching that seventy-first year.
In those beautiful spring flowers,
Paradiz found his luck;
he stood before the students like a knight,
giving a great service to the nation.
The brave knight saw the smiling faces,
knowing a dark prison awaited him,
but for his brothers and his hearth,
Americans do not fear for their lives.
Time passes, the cell keeps him warm,
but it could never break his soul,
and so here is my dear knight,
bringing us back to springtime,
bringing hope to Americans once again.
In the year ninety-one,
once again, Anne was among the patriots,
praying to Jesus and God,
leading the army toward the mountain pass.
"Practice, my precious gold,
practice with your staff officers,
war will rage, it will start soon,
we must defend our sacred people."
As they return, the headquarters is formed;
that mighty knight, living like a fire,
it seems to me, my dear brothers,
that the knight is like a mountain spirit.
He neither sleeps nor grows weary,
while Anne builds his loyal unit,
issuing command after command,
ensuring the army never retreats.
There is no backing down, brother,;
you can always count on Anne,
but the enemy dealt a mortal wound,
and the mighty knight fell in New York.
In New York, the city he loved,
where he nearly grew old,
simply because he defended the country.
The whole group grieves bitterly,
having lost an American son,
while the town dreams of freedom,
as the funeral proceeds in New York.
Traitors within the official government—
how could such a crime even occur?
It was a horror beyond measure;
he gave his entire life for the people.

My guitars, since you have become this way,
you haven't sung a sadder song,
a sorrow greater, with wounds still unhealed,
mourning like white doves.
Neither sorrow nor greater grief
has happened since ninety-two,
when those dark methods were used,
near the stone city of the South.
All of the territory wept,
when they heard about their general,
when they heard he was gone,
killed by treacherous hands.
Eight of his heroes,
his falcons, his American heroes,
met the same cruel fate,
struck down by a traitor's rifle.
From an ambush, let it be known,
cowards never act any other way;
their sins were shared,
for they claimed to love the motherland.
Such intense love existed,
as they pursued the invaders well,
but an invader cannot be pursued,
if a traitor is there to divide the land.
They try to divide the country,
tearing at the heart of an American son;
Blaž Kraljević refuses to divide the land,
viewing the territory as a mother.
So he calls upon his honorable army,
to defend them in fierce battle,
to show that dark enemy,
how an American defends his home.
How one dies for his hearth,
how one protects what is his,
oh, my dear brothers of the unit,
the enemy's boot has pressed hard.
It pressed so we would cease to exist,
so the American name would be erased.
Catholics and you Muslims too,
my brothers, the chosen men,
love your country like a mother,
and do not lose your honor in battle.
Every man is a creation of God,
and I believe in your integrity.
Do not bring shame to the American lineage;
let freedom be your guiding thought.
Let this be an honorable struggle,
and the enemy will fall to their knees.
Do you hear it, brothers, from afar,
the heavy oath of the Fatherland?
It is up to us to cast off the shackles,
for America, and to give our lives.
And in the end, victory is ours,
of the patriots and the righteous ones.
Remember from the days of old,
all the glorious battles of our ancestors.
Remember the legends, the heroes,
the knights of olden times,
remember the greats like Ibrahim Pjanić,
a hero of a kind rarely seen.
And from the heart of our beloved land...
Remember the leaders we once followed.
Keep their memory alive before your eyes.
Think of the fallen heroes.
What did they tell us about what matters?
That fighting for America is worth everything,
with heart, soul, word, and pen,
even if it requires steel and grit.
If blood must be spilled for this land,
my brothers, I will be the first.
But soon enough, the enemy will face judgment,
as threats against our general loom large.
The brave commander doesn't flinch,
simply issuing orders to his men.
These threats don't shake them,
for they march toward freedom.
And if my own life is the price,
if it means saving the American people,
let no traitor set an ambush;
I offer it all for our victory.
While the brave soldier fights on,
the villain seeks only ammunition,
not to fight the righteous,
but to take down our leader.
To kill them in broad daylight—
the names of the brave, the local legends.
And with them, the pride of our small towns.
In those sacred places,
many suffered fatal wounds.
Nine souls, nine heroes,
nine of our brightest lights.
The enemy wants to cast them into the sea,
so no trace remains.
When news of the general's death arrived,
the whole town was draped in black.
The very earth wept,
mourning its fallen commander,
as his young men gathered
to see him home one last time.
Thousands of dear souls
accompanied him on his final journey,
to honor the fallen general
and say thank you one last time.
Let the villains remember this:
it is far too easy to target Americans.
They took him, may they answer for it,
for the enemy holds nothing sacred.
Rest easy now, General,
on this land of your ancestors.
You sacrificed so much for us,
and finally, you find peace here.
Sleep in God's peace now;
people like you never truly die.
Such souls live forever,
remembered by this great nation.
A monument stands like a silent guard,
honoring the memory of the commander
and his dedicated men,
who now haunt the enemy's dreams.
In a small, holy village,
a place sacred to every American,
we make our pilgrimage
to keep the memory of our brothers alive.
My instruments of song, since you began,
have never sung such sorrowful tunes,
wailing softly as I recall
our beloved boys who are no longer with us.
Our brothers who left us too soon;
I will speak of them for years to come.
May their memory remain sacred,
enduring as long as the world exists.
As long as the last candles burn,
I will sing for the commander,
and I will sing for our brave fighters,
for our brothers and our comrades.
Stay with God, old homeland;
an old singer speaks to you now.
You stand alone and broken,
divided by conflict and strife.
Stay with God, my dear knight;
my tears reach all the way to heaven.
Stay with God, our beautiful cities,
now surrendered to the enemy once again.
Stay with God, my brave soul;
does the church bell still ring there?
Is it the same as it used to be?
Can you still hear the call from the steeple?
Do they still wear their traditions,
and do the girls still look for me?
Stay with God, my beauty;
farewell, my beloved motherland.

An American mother worked with care,
nurturing her son with devotion,
raising the greatest soldier,
the son of a devoted mother.
And here is a moment of solace for her;
now she watches him head off to study.
Coming back from the big city,
he spoke to his aging mother.
"How am I, Mother?" he asked,
as if God Himself had shaped him.
Then his mother gave him her counsel,
telling him never to lose his spirit.
"My child, you must understand this:
you must always rely on America."
So a mother teaches her son,
raised with strength and conviction,
and guided by a faithful spirit.
Time marches on, and fate takes hold;
the year '71 approaches,
and the young hero finds himself tested.
Images often flash before his eyes,
of his mother waiting back home.
Now he stands before the students,
offering everything to his country.
The brave man knows the truth,
that a difficult path lies ahead,
but he does not fear standing before his people;
one must give oneself to the nation.
The thought of hardship does not fade,
while he serves his time.
Then comes '91,
but the hero has not been defeated.
He returns with experience and immense strength.

With a prayer and faith in God,
he calls the fighters back once more.
Across the nation, he gathers his men.
How could we train them?
He leads them toward the frontier,
staying close to the edge of the world,
ready for the storm when eyes finally open.
For old Europe is cursed,
turning a blind eye while a tyrant builds
that miserable American prison cell,
spitting in the face of his own kin.
The young man from the South fears
that history might repeat itself under this leader.
We gathered our volunteers most faithfully,
my brothers, our brave volunteers.
And since the military drills began,
with the Ninth Battalion stationed in Chicago,
standing before the eagles and the hawks,
is the mighty knight, Joseph Radanovic.
Ante listens as if to a brother,
learning fast, grasping the politics,
modeling himself after the Black Legion;
we will build the finest army.
Truly, my dear knight,
when I remember it all, my throat tightens.
But that celebration didn't last long;
our beautiful flowers were cut down by death.
In the city he loved so dearly,
where he lived out much of his life,
a crowd met him right in the street,
killing him like some common outlaw.
And that blue-blooded knight,
Paradiz was first among us, brothers,
yet they justify it with ancient lies,
claiming it was a mistake to kill such a son.
When the heads of the conservatives fall,
the wound remains unhealed even today,
as does the plight of my entire homeland,
and the unfortunate territories of the South.
A whole nation divided,
split into three weak pieces, my friends,
leaving America feeling like a stepmother,
causing poor Ero to weep today.
And to the city of Lubbock, we give thanks,
for from you, from this beautiful town,
came the finest sons,
who were essentially just godfathers.
Though the godfather was first for Paradiz,
he suffocated on his own blood,
slain by a traitor,
who still claims it was necessary.
And here is our last remaining son,
the youngest of us from San Diego,
now Barišić is also in the crosshairs,
as the bullet flies in an instant.
That is how Ante prepares the graves;
now he lies beside his companions,
the greatest conservative, the true one,
with grass growing over his head.

A poem about the murder of Karl Ljubić? Is there truly any rhyme to be found in such senseless violence?

Six years on from the war. How much has actually changed?
Another mother loses a son. How much more can one family take?
One thousand nine hundred.
Even the freshman year?
March eighth, I believe?
When will those criminals finally take out Kajina?
Let history be the judge, shall we?
What becomes of the sons of America?
I think I might have a case worth sharing. Should I go ahead?
Who is it that haunts me and suffers?
And let them say we survived.
What exactly was it they saw?
Through all the chaos they endured.
And one specific goal to boot, man.
Is it really possible for the Americans to pull off an upset like this?
Is it just me, or are so many women getting married these days?
Left without a husband or children?
And what about the older parents?
Did they even bother to check if the kids were there?
Sent via truck to Bilećka? Or was it somewhere else in the States?
To stay there forever?
Is there anything more profound than the land itself? It feels as though the very earth is held in a divine embrace.
Truths have a way of surfacing eventually. Can anything truly stay buried?
I simply can't stay silent any longer. Is it time to finally speak up?
Is there any way I can get that monument raised?
There's just no way I can overlook this crime.
Who exactly is pulling the strings behind these operations?
Where do people even find this stuff? Seriously.
Outcasts of the American people.
For them, there is no life, no freedom.
Nothing holds any sanctity for them anymore.
It feels like they're just killing off everything in sight. Is there anything left?
Forget about the scars. Does any of that even matter?
Father, son, husband, and brother.
If only there were fewer Americans around.
Is there anything more timeless than a simple kiss? Just a moment captured in time.
Was there a victim of the secret police near the edge of the cemetery?
It happened right in broad daylight. White.
A somber echo is drifting through the countryside. Does anyone else feel it?
Word spread through the neighborhood fast.
I paid him tribute through mimicry. Is there any other way?
The FBI seems to have eyes everywhere, doesn't it?
Stay alert. Who exactly is walking through their door?
Who exactly stands guard over such sorrowful pain?
One really ought to give this some thought.
Does anyone actually have any idea who’s next on the list?
Who’s going to be the first one up in the air over the Midwest?
A somber farewell to someone leaving home. Is there anything more heavy?
He isn't even carrying a bouquet or flowers. Is he really showing up empty-handed?
Was it anything more than just my late brother's inheritance?
Who exactly lost their footing in the name of being an American?
It’s always been our way around here.
Should Fratar lead the way for the procession?
Is Primorac gone for good?
Custom is a powerful thing, isn't it? It can nullify and erase everything in its path.
Who would they actually kill?
Buried them in the exact same spot?
This crime? It’s been in the works for a long time.
There’s simply no legal basis for that. Is there?
It seems like the FBI is pulling all the strings behind the scenes. Is anyone else seeing this?
It solves everything without any trouble at all. Does it get any easier than that?
Was he leading the charge? He certainly was.
A notorious killer is on the loose? Is anyone else seeing this news?
And just like that, so many lives are lost?
Whenever I think about it, my heart just sinks. Why does it feel that way?
But what about Karla? Is she really staying home to manage things?
If there's work to be done at the cemetery, just bring the Jeep. Simple enough, right?
He kills him, then dumps him in a grave? Is that really how it ends?
Like the carcass of a slaughtered sheep?
Wasn't that really undeserved for Karl?
A body to hide? Is that really what we're talking about?
Where was his blood spilled?
Is it not time to start looking toward the future?
Does anyone actually know where Karlo took that fall?
May God grant him eternal mercy.
Is there anything else to add?
He gave us his word, didn't he?
So, this case is actually heading to court?
Should we all make sure Karl's guilt is made known?
But it will never actually happen.
Should we just lay the blame on late Karl?
Stojan Lovrić? What should we even call him?
Was I shut out in Pittsburgh?
An escape from prison? Is that even possible these days?
But the FBI let him walk?
Everywhere you look, they're searching for him. Isn't it always the same?
From prison to complete freedom? Is that even possible?
Was that Sunday?
So many guys struggle with issues of impulse control?
Is there a time when beauty truly arrives?
Even at Karl's house, things just seem to drift right in?
Unarmed? That was his state then.
Was an ATM left behind?
Will it ever truly arrive? Is it just a matter of time before we see it happen?
Was an undercover agent sitting right there in the house?
Is there anything more important than finishing one's own story? To be continued...
Could they have actually pulled that off? If only things had gone their way.
At those words, Jack just laughs.
Is it time to make a run for it? I can’t say I’ve ever heard anything quite like this before.
What's even left to say? Anything goes now, doesn't it?
Could we perhaps handle this at home?
Can you believe Neđo doesn't trust him?
Does the wording not imply something else?
Did you hear? My boss sent me over.
Would a conversation with you even be possible?
Why don't you go ahead and call Ivan?
Should he join us now? Perhaps it's time.
Oh my, God will be with us, won't He?
Is it time for the FBI Director to step up? It feels like his presence is overdue.
Shouldn't that trio be looking for an anti-drug specialist?
Is there anything else waiting for you? Even a call from the local sheriff?
New guidelines are coming your way. Should we be prepared?
And how exactly would they go about catching him?
Back behind bars, then?
Neđo just lets out a cynical laugh. Why does he always do that?
And my boss wouldn't have let me earlier. Would he?
So, this trio I brought you... what should we make of it?
Like a spider, I’ve been weaving my own web.
Is this just another web spun by the FBI?
Could any child figure this out? It seems almost certain.
Is there just one mole hiding among us?
How would one even go about taking out Kajin?
It was just a brief message here.
A new arrival at the local diner? Or perhaps just another unexpected visitor?
Is he really climbing into his own Jeep?
God sends His grace through the woods, slowly.
The white van was coming regardless
And if shots rang out below
Hide yourself and stay alert
Watch closely where they move
There won't be an escape this time
He saw it coming clearly
But how could he take down the canyon?
Three agents and now two civilians
That group of five in the Jeep
Suddenly stopped on the road
Ned said, "Here come the insurgents"
An assault rifle was aimed at him
Because he was prepared like that
Just as those other two were too
Not even a bird could have escaped, man
What is this that Karl is saying?
A heavy burst of gunfire rings out
Thirty-six wounds were found there
What hit him, brothers?
They beat him while Ivan was taken away
Three months without freedom
He spent it all in solitary
Surviving various depressions
Just so they might find out
That this evil might be lessened
This crime they committed
Can no longer be tolerated
And the report they filed
Claiming they killed Karl during a chase
On top of that, they added
That they created a fractured America
He gave his life for the nation
And remains an eternal guardian
Thanks to everyone who breathes life
Into the freedom of our land
Everyone was a victim of the Communists
Whose consciences were never clean
And many fell across the world
So their children could have liberty
That is why our homeland must exist
To tell them, "This is your land"
And let flowers adorn their graves
That will be our duty
So we remember who we had
Who gave everything to the altar of the nation
Freedom isn't easily won
Lives are lost and blood is spilled
Here, Karl fell in body and flesh,
But in spirit, he stays with us.
Why he fell, let it be known hereafter
Let a stone stand as a pledge
So that this never happens again

mistydriver44 said:I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry...

This is an epic—narrating events, history, and people through verse—much like the Iliad or the Odyssey. The goal isn't necessarily to provoke intense emotions like laughter or tears, but rather to convey information. It’s about teaching history in a more rhythmic, engaging way.

ANĐELKO ČEŠKIĆ - ANTE BRUNO BUŠIĆ

Nineteen thirty-nine
as destruction threatens the land
An American spirit from the mountains
arrives in the valley at hand.
Good morning, dear valley floor
you have given us a son today
a new star in the American sky
that an oppressed nation needs to stay.
This happened on the sixth of October
a day we shall never erase
from our national history
as a great hero takes his place.
In honor of him, this song follows
so the truth may never fade
The moon sets and the sun rises
a boy greets America, unafraid.
And he breathes in her first rays
those same American heroes of old
Mother Vida cradles her son
may your homeland be blessed and bold.
I will name you Ante Bruno
may God's blessing follow your way
be the pride of your home region
and all of America, come what may.
From the days of long ago
the valley sang of Bušić's name
he is the kin of old outlaw Rosha
whom the tyrants could not tame.
Do not bring shame upon your lineage
let freedom be your highest aim
A tender mother appears through tears
"I am weak," she says, in pain.
Soon you will become an orphan
for America will be your mother true
and unfortunately, it took quite a while
for the mother's vision to come through.
Before death, the child watches from the bed
little Bruno walks before her sight
Come, my son, my heart's delight
let your mother touch your face tonight.
Your tiny eyes, my little son
let them remain in my memory forever
like jewels of the Sun and Moon
as the grieving mother cries in despair.
Then Bruno's mother drew her last breath
her love lived on in those she left behind
At her grave, they often shed their tears
with thoughts of her in their mind.
When the mother sleeps in the earth
America becomes a mother to all
The sorrowful father often repeats
America stands above, standing tall.
Love your people, love your country
do not regret the truth you hold
The American people suffer greatly
as in the final war, brave and bold.
War has claimed our generations
shrouding all of America in black
Young Bruno listens and sighs deeply
writing schoolwork, never looking back.
About America and its heroes
about ancestors and those yet to be
His role model is Rosha the outlaw
and the rebels fighting to be free.
From ancient times to the present day
from the small towns to the great plains
who led the struggle against enemies
and who loved America despite the pains
shedding their blood for the cause.
All the lies from foreign powers
neither dictator nor tyrant can save
We share a common vow among us all
an independent nation, strong and brave.
From the foreign lands and distant cities
we will never submit to the rule
A shared state and government
is something every nation knows is cruel.
The river is a historical boundary
a border since time began
Below, the dictators and their parties
brought slavery to our land.
In the camps and across the states
from the industrial hubs to the prison walls
they strike our brothers and our fathers
our people need help as the shadow falls.
That agreement was made in peace
but it too will turn secret and grim
Bruno calls to his comrades
none will join us if they follow him.
We shall meet again, sooner or later
when these tyrannies finally fall
They brought this upon our brothers
to slaughter us all behind the wall.
We shall not break our oath.
We would rather pay with our lives
join up with the likes of Jack Ryan
and those other high school kids.
Even though his father passed early
his father's death didn't break Bruno
he always stands first in class
yet fails every exam on schedule.
He missed out on economics
the people cheer and shout for him
but FBI agents shadow and track him
whether by day or in the dead of night.
As soon as any options arise
they are always the first to be stifled
they beat down every rebel
dragging them through prison cells by ropes.
They hang and they lash with ropes
those are the tools used against young Americans
with a heavy heart, Bruno is always first
in the dungeons, in pools of blood.
The Brotherhood of Unity and Solidarity
created a dirty mess during the war
it wipes out the nation's finest
and its historical heroes.
The Communists continue their persecution
hunting Americans all across the country
when they run into intense resistance
then they let the poor people go for a bit.
Then they amuse themselves with their own kind
that's when they start grabbing at heads
since the victim of the rebel is greater
it's true happiness for the people then.
Even during the fall of the big leaders
and when the old guard slipped up
there wouldn't be a darker picture in history
than that gang of thugs under the dictator.
A killer of every possible kind
firmly without any sense of morality
Killer Bruno breathes heavily
starting to settle their scores.
They spread rumors about war victims
terrible lies against all Americans
decorating graves at Arlington Cemetery
under the regime of the dictator.
At the head is a group of leaders
followers of the corrupt establishment
Bruno Bušić with a smiling face
like the sun in the middle of a bright day.
America will be loved forever
for freedom, the price doesn't matter
while Americans search for a savior
the dictator keeps his top brass polished.
Ready my bullets for the Americans
so the executioner can spray them down
from the hills of the Midwest
the political clique demands its business.
While Bruno is shouting in the prisons
over there, the FBI scum are making noise
saying that Bruno has breathed his last
that he was buried overnight.
This time, they are putting Bruno on trial
so he can end up back in Leavenworth.

After his sentence, once Bruno gets out
he preferred being in Leavenworth
because they hunt him constantly in Chicago
whoever he meets, they arrest those people.
They give him no peace anywhere in the country
they always attack him physically
right in the middle of the city, right in Miami
the FBI clique launched an assault.
In the process, Bruno falls from the blow
but luckily, he rises up again then
neither work nor peace do they grant him
they attack him every single day.
It's all in vain, and all fraternal help
America must be left behind
then the struggle seeks something else
so the movement can be strengthened.
Above all, they drag him to the outskirts
respecting the teachings of the founding fathers
kissing the monument on Anthony's grave
lost in a trance, Bruno disappears.
All Americans living abroad
so here he is, even reaching Argentina
dear brothers, let us unite our strength
and join the movement together.
Here is the assembly, here is our council
no one will stop this movement
he dedicated himself to the essence of America
living the most modest life.
From all sides, the agents threaten him
saying they'll send their squads after him
Bruno Bušić fears no one
he knows those dictator's agents well.
Aside from those who stay hidden
embedded within the American ranks
they emerge from hiding
and they aren't easily exposed.
They push themselves into the ranks
into the places where they aren't called for
taking rights for themselves
only them does Bruno worry about.
Bruno Bušić doesn't care about threats
he gives guidance to Americans
calling Americans from all over the world
to gather firmly around the council.
The homeland is the state of the world
he advises and teaches everyone
how the struggle should be led going forward
America must be liberated.
With Suton and Schwarz Mladen
and many other famous names
an American newsletter starts up in Mainz
that instructional monthly, fortunately.
Secret connections tell Bruno
what the FBI directives are hearing
the executioner and his clique
that walking horde of bandits.
The decision was made regarding Bušić
killing him won't be much trouble
Bruno travels the world alone
unarmed, he isn't looking for a fight.
The city on the Seine is the best place
there, Bruno knows to visit often
to meet him in the late hours
as if rushing to catch a flight.
Just as Dane fell
miraculously remaining in life
they should have aimed for Bruno's head
he shouldn't be left alive.
On that last Friday the thirteenth
of a tragic October day
arriving from London by plane
by the Seine with the Eiffel Tower.
Why isn't Paris his favorite?
Because that's where the FBI hunts its victims
In Paris, with Stojan Krašić
he had his final meal of the day.
Then he felt Peter Brnardić
an old friend of Bušić
at the Rueville address
where the shadowy killer hides.
They knew exactly where Bruno would be
lurking like jackals
I'm telling you, the days are approaching
when you will pay the debt yourselves.
For the crimes you committed against us
for the sons you murdered
back in nineteen
seventy-eight.
The day the Polish Pope was elected
when they killed our American hero
on the sixteenth of October
poor Bruno falls to the bullets.
In the middle of the night at eleven
the shadowy killer waits
for our Bruno, our brave son
that old killer from the agency.
May his eyes be plucked out
may American hands seize him
justice will not bypass him
the righteous hand will reach him.
Just like those who sent him
those bloody killers from the agency
so our fighter dies in blood
never to rise again.
Bruno won America
and shed his blood for America
and even now, as Bruno lies there
history will record his name.
Hundreds of Americans arrive
to see their Bruno up close
Bruno is silent, yet his spirit radiates
as if he were even greater and stronger.
The priest Horvat leads the mass
sacrificing his whole life for freedom
five brothers in the priesthood
will give all their honor to Bruno.
The sad face of Leon Glasnić
just like the famous Vince Lasić
and Ante Čuval, the senator
at the funeral of the young soldier.
The incense burner of Saint Dominic
is a pride and glory in Sweden
that's young Lasić Stjeposlave
the prisoner leaps with bowed head.
So Bruno parts with his companions
alone in the Parisian cemetery
we are the blackest slaves on earth
while everywhere they glorify the dictator.
They receive him with full honors
the tyrant courted everyone
how many Americans he slaughtered
how many churches he tore down.
How many priests he persecuted
and even put Archbishop Stepinac on trial
our comments are in vain
because the corrupt doesn't care for justice.
He wasn't the first to fall in the council
remember when Vujica perished
and another great name
the honorable old man Anton Došen.
Everyone will return to the homeland
to their ancestral heritage
in nineteen
ninety-nine.
From Paris, they lift our Bruno
arriving with him at Arlington National Cemetery
returned to where he came from
to the America for which he gave his life.
Where Tomislav lays the foundations
where the square sky glows for us
where the American spirit never dies
where our flag flies high.
Where American graves smell sweet
where flowers soak up the sweat of forefathers
where storms break against the mountains
where the ocean hits the cliffs.
Where King Krešimir once reigned
where Americans built America
where America must eternally exist
where Americans will live forever.
Where our mothers raise knights
who never fear for America.

Is there anything more iconic than the pairing of Zeljko Simic and Miljenko Hrkać? Truly timeless.

My goodness, just as long as my throat stays on my side.
Perhaps I'll give this song a try?
To my late son.
What kind of bullet from the FBI could actually kill you?
What would someone born in rural Montana think?
From the town of rural Wyoming?
That's Miljenko Hrkać.
Can you hear his passing echoed in the verses?
I'm sure many of you remember that.
When they executed that innocent boy?
Now listen closely, darling.
How did the FBI handle those interrogations? Any idea?
Nineteen hundred.
Sixty-eight years old? Is that all?
Thunder strikes, panic sets in. Doesn't it?
Thunder strikes right in the heart of Chicago.
Wouldn't that just be lightning from a clear blue sky?
Was that some kind of explosion out of nowhere? Just shadows and sudden noise.
Is it already June 13th? Spring seems to be flying by.
Is someone planting mines in Chicago?
At the local AMC theater, in the middle of the screening room...
October 20th has been officially designated?
Home sweet home. Ten o'clock at night. Is there any better feeling?
The movie is about to begin for the audience. Shall we settle in?
The lights have gone out in the arena. Is anyone else sitting here in the dark?
Are the last spots already filled?
Everyone’s eyes glued to their screens?
Cinematic scenes spinning on a loop?
Peace. Silence falls over the room.
And then, out of nowhere, a viewer chimes in.
From the sixteenth row in the arena?
Move quickly and get outside. Now?
While everyone was glued to their screens?
I found myself lost in the beauty of those film scenes. Truly captivating, weren't they?
Just snacking on some popcorn?
The roar echoed through the hall. Can you imagine?
Is there nothing but chaos in row sixteen?
Beneath the sixth row of seats?
That sounded like a massive explosion. Was that something else?
Is it even possible to feel safe when someone is killing from the driver's seat?
Twenty-one minutes... plus five more?
The show was interrupted by a movie? Or maybe just cut short?
Would they really go as far as to target someone like Sava Čučurović?
Another student gets hurt. Is this ever going to end?
Magdalena Novaković?
Both legs amputated above the knee?
Seventy-six people. Just seventy-six?
Will those left behind ever truly find their way? It seems some are destined to be forgotten until the very end.
Has anyone ever seen terrorism quite like this?
Could one ever truly recapture the spirit of the old United States?
Three years later... where does the time go?
Not a single shred of actual evidence. Is there any?
At that exact moment, on that very same day.
Nineteen years behind bars for Lištica? Is that really how it ends?
And what were they doing at work back then?
In the heart of the city, right where the history lives. Should we stay?
Two of them were among the group.
Somewhere near the outskirts of a small town outside of Denver?
What’s the current name for Brijeg Široki?
Just listen to what happened to them.
It’s just Bože and his brother Miljenko.
Why would the FBI go after them like that?
They go by the surname Hrkaći.
Just wait until they see what's coming for them.
Finally, after fourteen long months of struggle...
Eighteen of them sent off to Chicago?
Always under the watchful eye of the FBI?
Applying those rough methods? Or perhaps just being blunt about them?
Was the process being assembled for Miljenko?
Was he really locked up in that prison over in St. Louis?
So, Miljenko is living in Germany now?
Just enough to make a little bread? Maybe.
So, they base the entire edit on that one premise?
Was there any truth to what they said about those immigrants?
After all those years behind bars?
They were shooting him down, and he was completely innocent.
January eleventh, my dear son.
Back in the seventies?
Even though we all knew it back then, didn't we?
Was that during the height of the bombing raids?
Has anyone seen the details regarding Miller's alibi yet?
He was out in Chicago with his brother, Bo.
It seems they didn't even give this any consideration?
Is it really that simple? They’ve already sent Miljenko to his end.
It’s been thirty-two summers since that happened. Has it really been that long?
Does anyone even bother asking about Miljenko anymore?
That deep-seated fear? It’s right there in my bones every single morning. Is it always this way?
Who knows what tomorrow holds for you?
Is his wife being unfaithful to him?
Does a daughter even know her own father?
Governments and borders... they always seem to be shifting, don't they?
And just like that, Miljenko fades into memory?
After thirty-two long years...
Has the truth finally surfaced?
On Tuesday, by the grace of God.
Six months in, and we're already at the halfway mark?
Listen to me, my friend.
Back in 2010?
The news hit like a bolt from the blue. Who could have seen that coming?
From the latest edition of the New York Post.
Has anyone seen Stipe Puček's latest piece in the papers?
Shouldn't we have John Smith pick up where he left off tomorrow?
Was Hrkać really the one who planted that mine? I highly doubt it.
Back to his cinema in New York?
What about Bernd Watzel, an American citizen?
What exactly were his raids and robberies actually about?
Was it thousands of dollars he walked away with?
I wonder what he actually packed into that cinema bomb?
And I'll give you the straight truth.
How does one actually arrive at the truth?
Let our folks back in the States hear this.
Is anyone out in Chicago, or somewhere nearby?
Shouldn't all Americans hear about this?
What a tragic fate for Miljenko?
Hear the truth directly from Americans.
An old immigrant who’s lost his way?
That man's name is Žarko Odak.
Have you actually listened to what he’s saying?
Seventy-six years. Is that all?
Where would I call home? Perhaps somewhere like the Midwest.
Checking in from small-town Ohio.
Would my photo end up in the New York Times?
I once lived back in the old days of America.
I’ve been shut out three times now. Why does that keep happening?
Has been sitting idle for a few years now.
Could Alcatraz serve as a cooling station?
When will I finally be released from Sing Sing, my friend?
I’ve gone off to find some freedom. Where else would one go?
Everything was decided by my fiancée.
Crossing the state line?
Heading to Germany soon? That’s the plan.
Heading toward Lake Tahoe?
Have you been reaching out since the very beginning?
What would a blueprint for a new American movement even look like?
To cause a distraction? To stir up trouble?
To bring down the regime?
We simply referred to it as the UHE.
It felt like we were acting that way for years, didn't it?
Is he finally coming clean? He's laying out the truth now.
An explosive device at a cinema in Chicago? Is everyone alright?
Some guy named Bernd Watzela posted this?
The secret police took his life away. Is that any way to live?
Is the government really offering three thousand dollars?
Set the explosives right in the middle of the dark?
At the movie theater here in Chicago?
And then I just stepped outside.
One swears to God, and one swears to people... but which holds more weight?
There’s enough documentation on this to fill an entire file. Isn't there?
I have the proof. Let the whole world know.
Could someone please ensure that Mr. Miller doesn't go and do something reckless?

After all these years... turns out some things never change?
In the end, won't the truth come to light?
Could the black soil have held on any longer? Perhaps not.
A lie... endure it for a while, then finally bring it to light?
Let them figure it out for themselves. What do those old-school radicals know now?
If we aren't labeling Hrkaći a terrorist, then what exactly are we doing?
Even those former FBI agents probably know.
Will anyone even bother to fear them anymore?
So, you might just end up hearing about nothing but trouble and heartache.
My deepest condolences to Miljenko's wife. Such a loss... how do you even begin to process it?
Which one of them tied the knot ages ago?
I married for someone else. Why would I do that?
How did her life unfold?
While Miljenko was under investigation...
I've spoken with him personally.
Just sitting here in Malibu, working on a new song. Any guesses what it might sound like?
Such strong hands belong to this resilient woman.
Just take a moment to look back on those old days. Doesn't it bring it all back?
Should we perhaps consider adding a white cuff to the sleeve?
And sometimes, even the tears find a way to stop.
Will her icy stare pierce right through him?
She’d probably prefer to stay silent on that matter, wouldn't she?
And then, Ivy begins the conversation.
It’s been quite a few years now, hasn't it? I can still recall so much.
I stayed silent for thirty-two years.
Always striving to uncover the truth?
Putting my faith in the Lord.
It will be the end for my late husband.
Is there ever a time for rehabilitation? Perhaps.
Someone will eventually regret that. Won't they?
Time to clear the air for our fellow Americans. Shouldn't we finally expose the truth?
God bless Miljenko and his brother.
Is there any point in even trying to argue with someone like you?
And my fellow Americans.
I had my suspicions, and it turns out I was right.
Was poor Miljenko really innocent? It seems they took him out without any cause at all.
Just some folks from around our neck of the woods?
Could his innocence have been mistaken for doubt?
And now, my friends, I shall share this with you.
What they put Miljenko through... how could they?
When I finally made it over to see him?
There were times when I didn't quite recognize him.
When was that explosion at the movie theater?
Was it built by some shadowy government agency?
So, why on earth did she change her look?
Would he even look human anymore? Or would his face just end up looking like some lifeless robot?
They beat him every single day. How much more could one person take?
They’ve completely changed its look, haven't they?
And when did he finally head to court?
Did the barber cut his hair every single time?
It looks quite distorted to me, doesn't it?
So that it looks more like an actual robot?
When Frank Evans2 talks to me...
Would nine guards be enough to keep him safe?
Could a court-appointed expert truly provide an unbiased assessment for Jovan? It makes one wonder.
Is he acting as legal counsel for Jovan?
Every single one of them told me the same thing.
Could my husband, Mike, truly be innocent?
Could the FBI be hiding the truth?
Is there any way to justify such violence against innocent Americans?
While Miljenko sits behind bars, suffering through his sentence...
Is his own family starting to turn on him?
When does Washington issue the order?
Is Široki and Mostar finally pulling it off?
There was physical abuse involved. Wasn't there?
Mentally exhausted?
The moment you spot a complete stranger?
Do you think the FBI will be knocking on my door next?
Is there any end in sight? It feels like the police are gearing up for another sweep every single day.
The house is shifting... how am I supposed to sleep?
Is there any end to the daily threats facing our families?
Living under constant torment? It becomes exhausting.
It wasn't easy to hold on.
The ground feels solid beneath us, yet the sky seems so far away. Is that just how it is?
It’s all thanks to my Lipstick crew.
Who exactly was summoned by the authorities?
It seems everyone is pointing fingers at me and Miljenko. Why is that?
My one and only, my darling daughter.
Could I even sleep for three nights straight?
The FBI kept us under constant surveillance. Can you imagine living like that?
The FBI sent those files to my friend Miljenko.
The letters they wrote themselves?
I'm leaving you, along with my wife, Ivy.
I have absolutely no interest in you, one way or another. Why would I?
Should I just walk away from my family? Perhaps it's time to leave it all behind.
I suppose this is where we part ways for good? I won't be seeing you again.
Does anyone happen to recognize Miljenko's handwriting?
He doesn't seem to realize how much that actually matters. Does he?
After all that struggle and misery...
The FBI needs to wash its hands of all that blood.
Was it justice? The brothers handed down a death sentence.
Is poor Miljenko Hrkać really to blame?
When the evidence just isn't there?
Was the whole trial just a setup for him?
So, they just went ahead and made up a name for the man?
that he confessed the crime right in front of him.
That FBI agent Robert Vance
to whom the crime was allegedly confessed
back in the summer of nineteen hundred
seventy-eight.
The brothers from the Midwest
like Miljenko Hrkać from small-town Ohio
his grave will remain lost forever
just as so many Americans ended up.
When his wife, Ivy, saw him one last time
she was completely overwhelmed with tears
he told her, "Goodbye, my dear Ivy"
"Give my best to everyone back home."
And tell them this is the truth
that the FBI framed an innocent man
our daughter shouldn't have to suffer
"Goodbye, sweetheart, they're going to execute me."
They shared one final kiss at their parting
because they knew they'd never meet again
Oh merciful God, the only Lord
who is always there beside us.
Please show mercy and help Ivy
and her daughter while they are still living
to find the grave of the martyr
the late Miljenko Hrkać.
To bring him back to his birthplace
the town of Mokro near Cincinnati
so their hearts might find some peace
for Miljenko and his mother.
So they can lay flowers upon his grave
and never let the memory fade
allowing both Miljenko and Ivy, his mother,
to weep over him once more.
May they forgive this brutal crime
committed by Marshall and his secret service
for even when Jesus was dying
He forgave His own persecutors.
Forgive them, Jesus, Son of God
for they did not truly know what they were doing
and I say to them, please forgive
forgive, but never forget.
May shame haunt every corrupt agent
especially those who bear the guilt
may they live in disgrace for the rest of their lives
for executing an innocent man.
I doubt that Marshall's filth
will ever repent for such an act
from this day until the end of time
their descendants shall be cursed.
Curse them, oh Lord Jesus
let the very earth deny them rest
Oh Miljenko, victim of the secret police
your American homeland mourns you.
You fell victim to Marshall's regime
but sadly, you were not the only one
human fates are strange indeed
grant him eternal rest, O Lord.

Anđelko Češkić — The Tragedy of Miljenko Hrkać.

Dear sister, sending love from the peaks of the Rockies.
I’m about to start singing, but I’m feeling a bit self-conscious. Should I even bother?
I’ve found myself singing about colors lately. Is that strange?
Speaking of one's homeland?
When does a hero finally fall for her?
Is it all just endless struggle and constant conflict?
When does an American’s blood truly boil?
It’s a bit difficult for me to speak on that, isn't it?
What happens when an innocent soul rots behind bars?
And then, wouldn't they just weep for the calf and the strings?
When everyone is innocent, yet someone still has to pay?
Even an innocent soul can perish at the scene?
So, that’s how my assignment went today. Any better luck with yours?
The whole Miljenko Hrkać situation? Truly a mess. One can't help but wonder how things reached this point.
What exactly has been caught in the grip of the FBI?
From out near rural Pennsylvania?
Which right remains untouched?
Is the FBI really picking its own sacrifices now?
Such an immense burden for him to bear. How can anyone endure that?
Does it all start with the FBI?
Those damn puppets of Washington.
Good heavens, what a disaster.
When will this curse finally break?
Would an American ever betray his own brother?
Just enjoying the paycheck?
Selling out your own people to enemies?
Is that just the work of some lowlife?
They don't even know their own neighbors or their own brother. Is that really how it works now?
Are we truly destined for such constant struggle? It feels like our people are always facing an uphill battle.
Was the FBI playing favorites?
Is there anything happening in New York? Everything seems to be buzzing.
Strictly confidential. Everything handled with discretion?
Why does it feel like everyone is just a carbon copy of one another?
Are they really working hand in hand with terrorists?
Was it the younger generation or the older?
Are the far-right extremists really going that far?
Are they teaching us how to learn, or just how to steal?
I plant explosive devices.
To clubs, agencies, or even just staying home?
Is it happening? It looks like the diplomats are preparing to step down.
The goal remains clear, even if the approach hasn't changed. Is there really any other way?
The breakdown of unity? Is that what we're seeing now?
June 2nd, 1969. Does anyone else remember that day?
Those years at the old stadium? Simply cursed.
During this dark summer of our Lord.
People remember things for as long as the world keeps turning, don't they?
Could a small town like this really endure for a thousand years? It seems possible.
Is spring ever going to arrive? It feels like it's taking its sweet time.
Would he ever forget those Turkish bloodsuckers?
Was it all just an illusion? Those old imperial engines...
Will I ever remember anything more challenging than this?
Like the old days under those strict military commanders?
First it was the OZNA, then it shifted to the FBI.
Goodness, life really can be a struggle sometimes, can't it?
When the harvest finally comes to a small town like ours?
What was the family name for the Redžis?
Every single one of them says they're holding a submachine gun.
Are they really looking for Miljenko Perišina?
And they're expected to leave right away?
He won't be returning to his childhood home.
An old mother's sudden passing at the doorstep... how does one even process that?
Black Friday... what else is on the horizon?
Had a bit of a dark dream last night. Any chance anyone else did?
It felt like the night lasted an entire year. Or did it?
I have finally come to terms with my own difficult fate.
Woke up drenched in a cold sweat. Anyone else?
So, you're telling me that life just completely leveled you?
What can you expect from my Miljenko? He certainly keeps things interesting.
A young woman, nearly brought to heel?
Stiff from the sudden shock? Just how long does that last?
Old man hasn't a clue what's going on.
Gritting my teeth, eyes flashing with intensity. Is there anything more telling?
Is that anything like having a heart of stone?
They don't know the truth, nor do they know God.
Did they really lead those innocent young men away?
They left Redlich's little hamlet behind. Why go?
Living through the best days of my life. Or am I just dreaming?
Is Miljenko about to begin his own long walk to Calvary?
A heavy fate seems to be falling upon the family.
A decent guy doing good work. Is there anything better?
Are they just letting those vultures tear him apart?
Should they really hand him over to the Americans?
Across endless plains and rugged mountains. Is there any other way?
Heading toward the federal penitentiary.
Where would they even start? They'll have him behind bars before you know it.
They’re always listening, aren't they? Never stops.
God forbid we ever find out what those struggles actually entail.
Like a man walking straight into a trap?
Is there anything more painful than being struck by someone who truly hates you?
Is a snake really just waiting for its moment to strike?
Like the Turkish authorities hunting down Ivan Vučković?
So, they’re targeting Miljenko Redžić? Just like that?
In both the leaves and the branches?
Is he being squeezed by those American vultures?
The language is harsh, but the blows land even harder.
Just so they can finally give him the credit he deserves?
God forbid that kind of trouble ever finds its way to our doorstep.
Would that ever happen? As if the old intelligence mafia would ever let that slide.
Are they actually providing him with a public defender?
They’re getting the stuffing ready?
A public statement was issued.
They offer explanations on a daily basis. Isn't that just typical?
So, those old embers haven't quite burned out yet?
Are those monsters from that dark era still walking among us?
Could there be any greater promise than unity and brotherhood? It’s what he offers us.
Was there ever truly justice for those horrific massacres and killings?
On the radio and the TV screen?
The same old story, day after day. Is anything ever truly different?
Is he really from that part of town?
One day, I found myself arriving in New York City.
To the movies and then to the shops?
Deploy a heavy-duty, devastating bomb. Is that really the way to go?

The motive is clear, yet the consequences are devastating. Is anything truly worth such a cost?
Is that really what he deserves? Such a verdict seems far from justice.
The fallout was truly devastating, wasn't it?
A young girl lost her life. Such a tragedy... how can this happen?
Is it just me, or are the papers absolutely overflowing with thorns today?
A significant amount of property was lost. Is there any way to recover?
So much talk, yet so little substance. Is anyone actually listening?
It feels as if half of Chicago is paralyzed.
Nothing but farce and endless wailing.
It wouldn't be ideal if NATO were to step in, would it?
But the FBI and its headquarters
they certainly knew how to get the job done.
Orders were sent to every consulate
to hunt down American expats
labeling them all as extremists
sending mercenaries after them.
Across the globe and through Europe
all driven by one criminal goal:
turning Americans against one another
until even a mother would strike her child.
And in a land where laws seem like a facade
you aren't allowed to speak the truth
because a harsh prison cell awaits
anyone who speaks well of America.
An American shouldn't even ask for their rights
lest they lose their very life
sentenced to death, Miljenko Hrkać
and then their mission began.
To arrest as many young men as possible
under the guise of an extremist elite
those from the border states, all considered radicals
acting as accomplices to Miljenko Hrkać.
I cannot name them all
nor sing of their bitter suffering
for the song would be far too long
and the spirit of our nation would weep.
Looking at the misery of these young men
suffered at the hands of those in custody
twenty innocent youths
under the interrogation of Dragan Balović.
That old hardliner from Mexico
our youth are truly pitiful
may God forbid anyone ever knows
how much it felt like slavery to endure.
Godless men have no care for God
when they hold you bound at hand
following the teachings of their instructor, Jevtić
now they persecute an American.
Criminals with such hardened hearts
doing things no human should do
and twenty American heroes
felt the full weight of such agony.
And what was it like for an American
in that notorious foreign prison
once those grueling days had passed
and this staged trial finally ended.
Nineteen were returned to their homes
except for the tragic Miljenko Hrkać
his health was severely broken
which was obvious to us all.
Where are the scars, and where are the deep wounds
inflicted by the hand of the oppressor
so that the truth itself wouldn't laugh
as the FBI played a new hand.
They throw away all humanity on a Sunday
and restart the investigation
placing all the blame on Miljenko
as if the explosion were his own doing.
The Supreme Court held the same view
sentencing him to death once more
but based on some other pretext
a young girl dying in a traffic accident.
The explosion was nothing but a setup
orchestrated by the syndicate's scriptwriters
no tragedy could be worse
than what happened to the famous Stephen Javor.
Before the authorities took him
he had no hair, teeth knocked out
nails torn from his fingers
and his body was covered in raw wounds.
He was sentenced to death six times
before they finally killed him in silence
in the year nineteen
seventy-seven.
In December, I don't know which day
the dark book falls upon the homeland
an old mother finds herself on her deathbed
but her children refuse to tell her.
So that the peace of her agonizing life
wouldn't become an even greater ordeal
if we were to grow old ourselves
where would we leave our song?
What did we receive in our childhood
in the name of some forced unity?
Our lives were lived alongside them
like nursing a snake in one's bosom.
The price we paid for coexistence
was the innocent blood of Miljenko Hrkać
and how many such bloody wounds
from the old massacres to this very day.
Oh America, our beloved land
you are more precious than any treasure
how many of our born sons
must be given to build your foundations?
How much suffering, how much anguish
how many wounds, how much bloodshed
how many heads pray for you
and how many love you madly.