The Karawanken Mountains form the northern border between Croatia and Austria. Wild and rugged, yet magnificent and of a remarkable beauty, the dark mountain peaks rise toward the sky. Spruce and pine twist and cling from the valleys up along the steep rock faces, in an eternal struggle against the harsh forces of nature, until they finally meet their fate high under the clouds.
A wonderfully beautiful panorama passed before our astonished eyes—things we had heard about, read about, and seen in pictures, we were now experiencing in reality. The settlements were sparse and scattered; here and there small villages lay hidden in the deep valleys.
It was an ideal landscape for partisans and insurgent elements, but since it was partly outside Marshal Tito’s sphere of influence, security was reasonably good.
Over Marburg we reached Agram, or Zagreb, as the city is called in Croatian. Agram has around a few hundred thousand inhabitants, is the capital of Croatia, and was the seat of the government at that time.
The terrain had gradually changed, and from Agram we steamed out onto the wide plains that stretch for mile after mile on both sides of the Danube’s major tributary, the Sava. Here, the partisans’ area of activity truly began.
In front of the locomotive we had four freight wagons filled with gravel; their task was to absorb the first impact of any explosive charges that might have been laid, and at the same time give the engine driver a chance to stop the slowly moving train.
The forests had been cut down or burned at a suitable distance from the railway line to prevent sudden attacks. Many of the small stations bore signs of partisan activity, destroyed and ravaged by fire, all surrounded by barbed wire and occupied by Croatian troops.
The first major town after Agram was Sisak. In Sisak we were shunted onto a siding and continued on to our first destination, Petrinja. A part of the regiment had been stationed in Sisak; most of the 2nd battalion was quartered in Petrinja, while the 1st battalion continued on to the town of Glina, deep in the mountains.
Petrinja: The barracks, or rather the barack camp, were located on the outskirts of Petrinja and naturally as far from the railway station as possible.
Our legs were quite stiff after a week-long confinement in the cramped, shrinking freight wagons—it became a hard march in the scorching midday heat, made worse by our heavy packs and thick clothing.
By Danish standards, it is very hot in Croatia. Day after day the sun burned from a cloudless sky, and the fresh winds of home were an unknown concept here. It was torture to drill in the heavy soldier’s uniform; the slightest movement made sweat pour from every pore, and we blessed the regimental command when the order came that shirt, belt, and trousers were to be regarded as the only prescribed clothing.
Petrinja has a quite beautiful location at the transition between plains and mountain ranges. To the east and north, the great valleys stretched out where fields of maize waved and cattle and pigs grazed in herds. To the west and south, the first foothills of the vast mountain region of Serbia and Dalmatia rose from the plain, their forested peaks standing out, while the fresh, wide stream of the Kupa River flowed at their base.
Petrinja had about 10,000 inhabitants and was the center of a large surrounding area. Farmers and highlanders brought their many different goods to the town and bartered through extensive exchange for other necessities. Money had little or no value, as inflation was rampant throughout the country.
When Lieutenant J… or Corporal P… became thirsty—as one often does in Croatia—and wished to add some flavour to the country’s excellent wine, the soldiers’ pay did not go far. But if one was fortunate enough to possess private belongings that could be sold on the black market, things looked quite different.
It was astonishing how many kuna (the Croatian currency, equivalent to Danish kroner) a watch or an old shirt could bring in; one felt like a true Croesus when the thick bundle of large banknotes was paid out—only to be all the more disappointed when one discovered how little could actually be bought for the money.
Alcohol was not the most expensive commodity; a bottle of good rum could be bought for 800 kuna, whereas a pair of good boots—if they were available at all—could cost 40,000 kuna.
Not many left Croatia with their private belongings intact; everything was converted into spirits. Had it been possible to sell military property, the men of Regiment Denmark would in the end undoubtedly have been left wearing nothing but a modest loincloth.
Some had already begun selling blankets and other parts of their equipment—items they considered quite unnecessary in the warm climate. This view was not shared by the military authorities, who could not see the sense in such a simplification of equipment, and a firm and decisive stop was put to this trade.
In lesser cases, for example when only a blanket was involved, the punishment was demotion and imprisonment; in more serious cases, transfer to a penal battalion—which was almost equivalent to a death sentence.
The Italian troops, who had occupied the country before we arrived, carried out a far more extensive barter trade, and the partisans were their good customers, for a good Fiat armoured car the price was 5 cows.
Petrinja was a rather amusing town, very different from a Danish provincial town of similar size. Several of the buildings were beautiful and monumental, but everywhere there was a sense of decay and a lack of order that seemed to suggest a certain indolence among the population.
It was quite a spectacle when, in the evening, the peasants drove their roaring herds of cattle through the streets—a city scene entirely foreign to us.
There was no shortage of taverns, and wine and spirits were abundant, but any form of entertainment was practically non-existent. The women were attractive and neatly dressed, whether in modern attire or in the colourful Croatian national costume with its many layers of blouses.
The men were their complete opposite. As everywhere in the Balkans, where I have been, they were small, dark, and poorly built. It should perhaps fairly be added that the military had taken possession of the best part of the youth.
The civilian men’s clothing was rather shabby, clearly showing the lack of textile goods; I do not recall having seen a proper suit of clothes down here.
In the two larger towns, Petrinja and Sisak, where we were quartered, the population’s attitude towards the Germans was friendly but reserved—the girls being an exception; the occupation forces were regarded as a necessary evil.
The partisans operated actively in the area around Petrinja; it was especially in the mountains to the west, on the connecting road to Glina, that they were active, but even the road to Sisak was not safe. Several of our supply convoys had been attacked and a number of men killed.