Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

Snipers were another symbol of this siege. One main thoroughfare in the city, directly exposed to sniper fire from the mountains, became known as "Sniper Alley." Pedestrians had to run to cross it, and the radio broadcast daily announcements about which intersections were most dangerous that day. Snipers targeted civilians—the elderly, women, and even children, according to records.

The undisciplined Serb militias charge money to allow some to shoot civilians for amusement, with shooting children costing the most.

Serbs set up checkpoints on the highway into the city. Every vehicle attempting to enter or leave was stopped, searched, and harassed. The humanitarian aid initially provided by the United Nations, including food, medicine, and fuel, was confiscated and used as bargaining chips.

Just like what Israel has done to Palestine for decades, except this time the victims are European whites, not Israel, and only the more than 400,000 citizens of Sarajevo are trapped. Therefore, it quickly gained widespread international attention.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

As time went by, the UN peacekeeping forces gradually penetrated deeper into the Yugoslav war zone, and casualties continued to rise.

These 35,000 people come from more than 20 countries. The number sounds like a lot, but when you lay it out on a map of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, it's very small. This land of hundreds of thousands of square kilometers, with its mountains and valleys, is too vast, and there is fighting everywhere!

Peacekeeping forces cannot concentrate their operations in just one city, because massacres in this war often occur outside of major cities.

It happens in towns and villages, in small places with only three or five hundred people whose names don't appear in any news headlines.

A Serb militia squad of just a dozen men, armed with automatic rifles and rocket launchers seized from the People's Army, could drive into a Muslim village one night, drag the men out, line them up at the village entrance, and kill them.

Historically, Serb armed militias have killed the most adult males of the Bolivarians, and the reason they haven't killed many women is well known—after a victory in battle, their wombs would be responsible for producing new Serb population.

Then they left behind a field littered with the corpses of Muslim men. When the peacekeeping patrol arrived the next morning, all they found were fields strewn with corpses and burning villages.

Peacekeeping forces must be dispersed and stationed in various locations. The presence of peacekeeping forces is needed in every town where a massacre could occur—and in Bosnia and Herzegovina, a massacre could occur in almost every town.

This is why the United Nations imposed an arms embargo on the country. Four or five armed men could easily massacre a village. Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina lacked sufficient manpower, and Serb militants frequently infiltrated their rear areas to carry out massacres.

Even if the peacekeeping force consists of just a few people, or even just a white armored vehicle parked at the village entrance, it can keep these scoundrels in check!

The very existence of that armored vehicle was a wall separating the killers and the killed. But how many areas could 35,000 people dispersed across this land possibly cover?

A large village could only be assigned to one platoon or two squads. More than twenty foreign soldiers in blue vests guarded a village of a few hundred people.

Their communications relied on radio, which was intermittent in the mountains. Their reinforcements were far away, with the nearest friendly forces possibly in another village tens of kilometers away.

Their firepower consisted of only ordinary infantry weapons, an armored vehicle, and at most a heavy machine gun.

Because they are peacekeeping forces, they are not here to kill. They are responsible for humanitarian aid, providing logistical support, maintaining order, and protecting the transfer of medical personnel... The armored vehicle was loaded with less than half of its ammunition; the rest was all kinds of support supplies!

Even for the U.S. military, which carries the most ammunition, the proportion of ammunition does not exceed two-thirds.

The militia that peacekeeping forces face—those who constantly move around without a fixed position, wearing military uniforms one day and civilian clothes the next, fighting from one village to another—can gather dozens or even hundreds of people at any time to attack a peacekeeping outpost.

This is the essence of the predicament.

To protect everyone, you must disperse. Once you disperse, each of your points becomes vulnerable. These vulnerable points will be attacked, and when attacked, you need reinforcements. Reinforcements require drawing troops from other points, making those other points even more vulnerable...

This is a hole that can never be filled.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

In January 1992, the conflict began to escalate.

The attacks by Serb militants against peacekeeping forces have escalated from "borderline deterrence" to direct strikes.

On January 3, Serb militants attacked a French peacekeeping observation post with mortars, injuring two French soldiers. One of them succumbed to his injuries after his medical team was intercepted on the way.

On the 4th, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serb militants ambushed a British convoy. A supply convoy of British peacekeeping forces was attacked on a mountain road. The vehicles were overturned by landmines, and dense small arms fire from the roadside bushes pierced the canvas covers of the trucks, with bullets bouncing inside the truck beds.

The convoy was forced to stop, and British soldiers took cover in roadside ditches and returned fire for twenty minutes until Soviet Hind helicopters painted white arrived to rescue the attackers, at which point they withdrew. Three British soldiers were wounded.

On the same day, some peacekeeping soldiers were shot and killed by snipers while patrolling certain areas. Since then, many soldiers have learned to run across open areas with their backs bent in unfamiliar terrain—because there are snipers in the mountains.

A Polish peacekeeper was shot in the throat and killed instantly near a hospital checkpoint in eastern Croatia. Meanwhile, more civilians were being treated and several surgeries were underway at the checkpoint he was guarding.

There was no time to evacuate, so his comrades could only close his eyes and, with tears in their eyes, drape the United Nations flag over him.

As the soldier's coffin was loaded onto the helicopter, almost everyone inside and outside the hospital saluted the white-painted aircraft bearing the UN logo.

On July 7, an Italian Air Force G222 transport plane carrying supplies to Bosnia and Herzegovina was hit by a portable anti-aircraft missile fired by Serb militants. The plane crashed, killing all four crew members.

Serb militants are still holding hostages, not only against civilians but also against peacekeeping forces.

PS: There have been several incidents in history where Serb armed groups have taken peacekeeping troops hostage.

Here a patrolman was arrested, there a vehicle was stopped and its occupants detained. The Serbs took them to ammunition depots, bridges, and radar stations—targets that might be hit by airstrikes—and handcuffed them to railings.

Then notify the peacekeeping command: Your people are here. If you attack our facilities, you'll have to blow up your own people too!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Despite all these difficulties, the peacekeeping forces have accomplished a great deal.

In the villages where peacekeeping forces arrived, even if it was just one squad, the frequency of massacres decreased significantly. This is because the perpetrators knew that those in blue vests would record, report, photograph, suppress them, and broadcast their actions to the United Nations and television screens around the world.

Anonymous acts of violence are easy; witnessed acts of violence have consequences.

The peacekeeping forces brought not only blue helmets, but also journalists: from CNN to BBC to AFP to Reuters, a large number of journalists followed the peacekeeping forces into Yugoslavia.

They wore white helmets and blue vests, with "PRESS" written on their helmets. Carrying cameras and video recorders, they followed the peacekeeping convoy into the burning towns.

They successfully transmitted the footage.

The footage from Sarajevo was the most breathtaking. Journalists in the besieged city braved sniper bullets and shrapnel to climb onto hotel rooftops and film everything, transmitting the images of the city to television screens around the world.

Serb forces are firing large amounts of artillery shells into the city every day. The shells, fired from positions on the ridge, indiscriminately target military and civilian targets, landing on residential buildings, in people queuing to buy bread, and in schools and hospitals.

Snipers fire daily from the high-rises and ridges surrounding the city, shooting at anything that moves in the streets.

A foreign journalist captured a series of images: an elderly man in Sarajevo pushing a handcart across the street. The handcart was loaded with several buckets of water—he was braving sniper fire to fetch water from a designated water source.

As he walked into the middle of the road, a bullet that had come from a distance struck the pavement at his feet.

He paused for a moment, then continued walking. The bucket wobbled on the cart.

He didn't run, perhaps because he couldn't run anymore, or perhaps because he didn't want to run anymore.

This scene was repeatedly broadcast by television stations around the world.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The United Nations’ high-profile intervention made the world see what was happening in Yugoslavia.

The international community's attention was drawn to the Balkans. Humanitarian organizations from various countries responded to the call and went to Yugoslavia—the Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, the UNHCR... They established logistical bases and medical stations in the relatively safe rear areas of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina. Refugee camps were set up, and food and medicine were transported into the conflict zone through limited routes.

The Soviet Union called on countries to organize humanitarian aid teams at the United Nations General Assembly. This call received a wide response. Not only at the government level, but also at the non-governmental level, people's organizations took action.

Volunteers, doctors, and nurses from all over the world... many of them had no military background, but simply felt they should do something, and flocked to Yugoslavia.

Some of them never returned.

The United Nations Security Council on January 18, 1992.

The Soviet representative stood up again.

"The current peacekeeping force is insufficient to fulfill its mission. Thirty-five thousand troops are scattered across hundreds of thousands of square kilometers of conflict zone, and every outpost is operating beyond capacity. While protecting civilians, our soldiers are also becoming targets of attack!"

“Especially in the Sarajevo region. The peacekeeping force has not yet arrived in Sarajevo, the city is surrounded by more than 20,000 Serb militants, and 400,000 civilians are living under shelling and sniping every day. All we can do at the moment is to conduct limited humanitarian airdrops into the city by plane—which is far from enough.”

The Soviet Union proposed: increase troop numbers. Simultaneously, it would take over Sarajevo airport for large-scale humanitarian airlifts.

There wasn't much debate in the Security Council this time.

The images that have been circulating over the past two months—from Sarajevo, from peacekeeping positions, and from burned-down villages—have drowned out all dissenting opinions.

No one can vote against sending reinforcements to a besieged city that is being massacred in front of a global television audience.

The resolution was passed.

The Security Council has decided to deploy additional peacekeeping troops, the specific numbers and sources of which are listed in the annex to the resolution, and they will be in place in the coming weeks. As for Sarajevo Airport, it will be officially taken over by UN peacekeeping forces on January 19, 1992.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

In order to make the world aware of the work done by the United Nations, the Soviet Union called on all countries at the UN General Assembly to carry out propaganda, to contribute manpower and resources as much as possible, so that their just cause would be known to the world and that their contributions and sacrifices would never be forgotten.

January 28, Nanjing, China

At 8 p.m. sharp, CCTV's evening news program had just finished airing, but instead of the usual weather forecast, it did not air immediately afterward.

The screen went black for a moment. Ma Wencai's mother was carrying a plate of boiled peanuts out of the kitchen and casually asked, "Why isn't there a weather forecast?"

Before he could finish speaking, the TV turned on. It was a clip, broadcast in the standard translation style of a CCTV voice-over actor.

The scene depicts a blue sky with a United Nations flag unfurled in the wind, its white globe surrounded by two olive branches against a light blue background. Several large white letters slowly emerge beside it.

"Peace"

The words lit up one by one.

"Our Common Cause"

Then the scene shifts to a commercial street; it's unclear which country it's from, but it's definitely not Old Zhong's. The sun is shining brightly, and a child is chasing a soccer ball on the cobblestone street.

"This is the world we live in."

The ball rolled to an old lady's feet, and she picked it up with a smile and handed it to the child.

"The people here were once just like you and me."

Ma Wencai sat on the sofa without moving. He was only 22 years old and had just graduated from university. A few weeks ago, he received a notification from the power plant saying that he had passed the interview. His mother put the peanuts on the table but didn't go to get them; she just stood there watching TV.

"They have a home," the narrator says, showing a family eating around a table, with a view of a southern-style house with red tile roofs outside the window.

"I have children."

A baby's face is smiling at the camera.

There is a tomorrow.

The camera focuses on a young couple, the man with his arm around the woman, both looking into the distance.

Then the narrator paused for a moment: "But—"

The screen went dark. Smoke rose from the red-tiled houses on the television, and the narrator's voice grew somber: "Peace...can also be taken away."

The camera shakily pans. Burning houses, empty cradles, a small shoe lying on the ground. The child chasing the ball is gone, and the ball lies untouched in the middle of the empty street. In the blink of an eye, the houses along the street turn into ruins and rubble, and a burning tank crashes through the debris, firing into the distance.

The narrator stopped speaking and let the images flash across the screen. Ma Wencai's mother wiped her hands on her apron.

The screen suddenly froze.

The entire screen went black, and a huge line of red text appeared in the middle, filling the entire television screen:

“ВОЙНА”

war.

Ma Wencai knew Russian and knew the meaning of this word.

The screen went black for two seconds, then a person walked in from the left side of the screen. He was a soldier, tall, wearing a Soviet military uniform. He walked to the center of the screen, stood still, and looked at the camera, as if looking at Ma Wencai's living room through glass.

"Does it look familiar?"

"Such a scene is happening right now, not far from you!"

He took a step forward, bringing his face even closer.

"Next time it might be somewhere else, or it might be someone you care about."

No one spoke in the living room, and the peanuts in the pot were still steaming.

"Unless you can make the most important decision of your life!"

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The black screen behind the soldier lit up instantly, turning into the blue United Nations flag. The soldier's Soviet uniform transformed into a brand-new one, complete with a blue armband on his chest, and someone handed him a helmet from off-screen.

The blue steel helmet has two white letters printed on it: UN.

"Prove to everyone that you have the strength and courage to protect others."

He put on his blue helmet.

"Join the United Nations peacekeeping force."

Ma Wencai's mother suddenly spoke up, her voice trembling slightly: "Wencai, turn off the TV."

Nobody bothered to close it.

The television screen switched to something else: the door of a transport plane was open, and a row of soldiers in blue helmets sat inside, red lights flashing. Then the green lights came on, and they jumped out one by one, their white parachutes exploding in the blue sky like a flock of doves. The narration became impassioned again:

"Be a guardian of peace!"

The scene cuts to the ground. Those white tanks—Ma Wencai had seen them on CCTV news, saying that Soviet tanks had been painted white and were entering Yugoslavia—were lined up in a long procession crossing a bridge. People stood on both sides of the bridge, some waving, some just standing and watching.

"By shielding others from suffering, you will be remembered by the people!"

A blue-helmeted soldier crouched down and handed a piece of bread to a child by the roadside. The camera zoomed in on the child as he took the bread.

"Let peace return to this land!"