In our small, isolated community the days were all alike, like one drop of water to another—but far from boring. The peculiar conditions under which we lived had loosened the constraining bonds of military life.
Outdoor living, the light service, the splendid weather, and the comradeship—all this, combined with a certain measure of the good things of life—good food, spirits, and tobacco—made each day a day of celebration.
From time to time we sent a reconnaissance patrol over to the neighbouring village, Taboriste. Officially to determine whether partisan activity was taking place, but in reality to find out whether the farmers’ brew of slivovitz was better there than in Rastovichza.
This was not the case, and the patrols to Taboriste soon stopped.
As a former farmer, it interested me to observe the peasants’ life and work. The soil on the vast Croatian plains is fertile and rich, and the climate is excellent—with long, warm summers and mild, humid winter months.
From nature’s side, the Balkan farmer has no reason to complain. This naturally applies only to the lowland population, for the situation of the mountain farmer is quite different.
Despite the fact that all natural conditions seem to be present for creating a highly developed agriculture, even the peasants of the plain are primitive and poor.
Agriculture is carried out under conditions and circumstances that would take us at least 100 years back in time to find anything comparable at home.
Modern machinery and rational farming methods are generally unknown concepts, and the farm buildings are beyond criticism.
I have seen pigsties so miserable and small that it was impossible for a pig to turn around in the confined space once it had reached a certain size—and the whole situation defies description.
A farmer I visited had specialised in pig breeding on a large scale—everything measured by Croatian standards. He was so dirty and unkempt that any comparison between him and his pigs would have been decidedly in favour of the latter—and that is saying quite a lot.
The man was apparently regarded as an authority in his field, and with great pride he introduced me to the secrets of his feeding methods. The feed consisted of crushed pumpkins with a thimbleful of barley meal per pig, plus grass at will.
It must be admitted that the pigs looked both fat and well fed, but I would like to see the dancing pig that could thrive on such a diet.
The pigs in Croatia were of a different breed from the Danish highly refined white landrace. They were black-and-spotted, all of them, short in build, hardy and thriving, especially good grazers.
We encountered them in large herds on the plains, and despite the fact that their only nourishment was grass, they were bursting with well-being and fat.
Poultry also played a major role in production, especially geese; they could be seen in thousands along the rivers and lakes.
Agriculture was largely focused on the cultivation of maize, potatoes, and wine. Oxen are the most commonly used draft power in the fields; where there is a shortage of oxen, dairy cows are made to do their share, but naturally this comes at the expense of milk production.
Disorder, lack of expertise, absence of farm planning, and proper sales organisations characterised the entire agricultural sector.
Intensive farming, modern and up-to-date methods and machinery, combined with cooperative organisations on the Danish model—this was what was needed here, especially since agriculture mainly consists of smallholdings.
But the population was not among the most industrious and even had an antipathy toward any form of change—everything new was sabotaged.
When to this is added an incompetent administration that for centuries had drained the people for its own benefit and to the country’s detriment, one understands why agriculture stood at such a low level.
The unsettled conditions in the country, the bandit problem, and the many wars naturally also played their part.
The good days passed quickly—barely a month did our stay in Rastovichza last.
One fine day everything was in a state of departure. The 5th Company of Regiment Danmark relieved us—it was in the first weeks of October 1943.
With wishes for all the best for the future, we said farewell to the friendly population—little suspecting the terrible fate that was in store for Rastovichza and our successors, the 5th Company.