NEK SE I TO ZNA – ZAŠTO MILAN BOBAN, GABRIĆA MORAO NAPUSTITI BOBANOVU DRAGU I HRVATSKU?
20/07/2016
Otac mi je bio jako strog. Poznato je da su osobe koje su po naravi stroge, da su jako osjećajne i nježne. Takav je bio moj otac, iako sam ga morao po vojnički slušati. Kada bi išli na njivu raditi, ako je bio dobre volje, išli bi usporedo i on bi meni uvijek pričao neke dogodovštine koje je čuo od svojih roditelja, susjeda, starijih osoba i sve bi te priče bile tako interesantne da ih se i dandans sjećam. Pričao mi je kako je bio ranjen na Romaniji 1942. (Kliknite na: Neću brte, kad sam moga do sada živit ko’ čovik, mogu i od sada). https://otporas.com/necu-brte-
Neke priče su išle od uha do uha, iz koljena na koljeno i tako su stare da bi se mogla rekonstruirati povijest cijele Bobanove Drage. Jedna od tih priča je kako se je počeo saditi duhan u Bobanovoj Dragi početkom tisuću osamstotih godina, kako su Turci u ta vremena vladali kod nas, kako se je sve moralo Agama prijavljivati, kako se je harač kupio i silom morao davati Turcima. Zato je Andrijica Šimić otišao u Hajduke, kako bi se borio protiv Turaka i bio je od nekog Garca u Runovićima izdan 13 siječnja 1871. Bio je u Kopru u zatvori i pušten iz zatvora 1901. godine, kako ga je naš djed Gabro Boban (Vuškin) odveo na konju u Runoviće 5 veljače 1905. godine i kako je tu umro i zakopan u istom groblju gdje je zakopan i izdajica Garac koji je upravo bio umro nedavno, i kako je po želji Andrijice Šimića zakopan iznad groba izdajica Garca, tako da su noge Andrijeice Šimića dodirivale vrh groba izdajece Garca, što je bio, kako se je pričalo, očiti znak da noge junaka Andrijice Šimića tabače glavu izdajice Garca. To je samo jedna priča a ima ih na stotine.
Kada sam već kod priča koje sam zapamtio i koje preko šest desetljeća nosam sa sobom, i ne mogu ih zaboraviti, jer su mi se zalijepile za tabane, pa kuda god koracam, tragovi tih priča ostaju. Jedna od njih je ta kada sam 1956. godine išao na sijelo u Grude, u selo Krištelicu s mojim rođakom Antom Grubišićem, Lukin, ponio sam sa sobom pištolj mojeg Ćaće Petra, kalibra 6.35. Njemu je taj pištolj, samokres, darovao njegov vršnjak i kolega Rafael, Ranko Boban. Na cijevi samokresa je bio ugraviran “U” slovo s inicijalima NDH. Imao sam samo tri (3) naboja, metka. To je bilo početkom zime 1957. godine. Naravno da smo na sijelo išli pješke, jer tada nije bilo drugih sredstava. Kad smo prošli Grudski Dom, točno kod Abudine kuće, na onoj maloj okuki, penjući se prema Marićama, dva milicionera nas zaustaviše: ruke u vis! Stali smo. Oni hoće nas premećati. Mi se nismo dali. Zima, noć, oblaci, ništa se ne vidi, mjesec tu i tamo iz oblaka se pokaže, oni nagrnuli da nas premeću. Tada sam se ja isprsio i odrešito rekao: “Ako nas dirnete, nečija će majka noćas zakukati, ili vaša ili naša. Pustite nas na miru, vi idite vašim putem a mi ćemo našim.” Oni su popustili a mi produžili na sijelo u Krišteljicu. Ali kraj ovog incidenta nije bio tu. Oni su, milicioneri, počeli dolaziti u našu kuću smetati mojem Ćaći i govoriti mu kako oni imaju problema s njegovim sinom Milanom, tj. s menom. Ja sam bio tu. To je bilo u veljači 1957. godine. Tu je bio, kako se je to tada službeno govorilo, “komandir” Narodne Stanice Milicije Sovići neki Đuro, zatim neki Milorad i neki Milan Šorman. Ćaća Petar sluša njih a u mene gleda i meni zapovjednim tonom govori da izađem iz kuće. Ja se nakostrušio, ali poslušno sam poslušao Ćaću, izišao na sjeverna vrata iz kuhinje prema čatrnji i ugledah sjekiru iza čatrnje. Nisam dugo razmišljao. Uzeo sam sjekiru, uletio u kući i mašući sjekirom prema njima, uz veliku galamu im naređujem da napuste kući prije nego krvi i zla bude. Oni su se digli i otišli. Ali sam im ja ostao META. Prilažem buntovničku sliku tog vremena.
DVIJE SLIKE:
Prva slika: Lijevo Preka Grubišić i Mile Boban, siječanj 1959. obučeni u nošnju mojeg pokojnog djeda Gabre Boban, Vuškin (1879-Nova Godina 1948) Pojas, šubara, šćap, kubura/kremenjača mojeg djeda Gabre.
Druga slika na istom mjestu isti dan: Mile Boban sjedi, pozadi se vidi šarena zovnica na bršljanu u kojoj sam donio sav borbeni alat, bajunetu mojeg Ćaće Petra koju je on imao dok je bio Domobran, vojnik NDH. i samokresi o kojima je riječ u ovim opisima. Slikao nas Vlado Grubišić, Ikulov.
Oni su vlast, iako tuđa, strana, a ja indivudualac koji se branim na svojem i nedam se. I to bi se, u kratkim crtama moglo reći, a ima toga mnogo od prije, počevši od srijede 31 svibnja 1950. godine kada su, ta ista vlast, mojeg dragog Ćaću Petra u šest (6) sati poslije podne dok je lozu polijevao na njivi Padina a ja bio sa njim, uhapsili i žicom mu ruke svezali, a nas djecu, jednom drugom do uha, ostavili sa Majkom same. To bi mogao biti uzrok, uz sve ostale pritiske, mojeg bijega iz moje voljene i drage Hrvatske.
Mogao bih ja nastaviti sa pričama koje sam čuo od pok. Ćaće Petra do ujutro. Ali ću za sada stati ovdje i izraziti moje žaljenje da mi je samo žao što nisam imao dovoljno vremena ostati sa Ćaćom Petrom duže od kojega bih čuo vrlo važne i za mene koristne priče. Otišao sam od kuće vrlo mlad. Bilo je jutro oko 2 sata ujutro. Dok je Mater brala duhan u vrtu, ja sam se pakovao, iz podruma uzeo pola kore slanine, iz naćava uzeo pomiješano pola kukuruzova i pola pšeničena kruha, iz tavana gdje su Otac i Mater spavali, uzeo sam 1500 dinara iz Ćaćina velikog novčanika kojeg je on još iz Belgije donio, kilo škije i noge pod opanke za Posušje, jer mi se je tu nalazila Radnička knjižica koju sam morao preuzeti.
Iz Posušja sam preko Širokog Brijega otišao za Mostar. Izvadio sam kartu za Sisak jer mi je tu bio brat Jerko. Putna karta me je koštala 1495 dinara Mostar Sisak. Ostalo mi je samo 5 dinara u džepu. Došao sam u Sarajevo i morao sam čekati do 10 sati uvečer za Sisak. Bio sam tu skoro cijeli dan. Nisam mogao staviti drveni Kovčeg/kufer, isti onaj kojeg je brat Jerko nosio u vojsku 1955. Garderoba je bila skuplja od 5 dinara. Ja sam se htio malo prošetati gradom ali mi je kufer smetao. Bio sam tu uz onaj trg gdje je bilo vode i ribe u vodi, Pošto su mi noge bile uznojne, ja tu operem nege da mi nitko ništa nije rekao. Kada je to bilo tako, ja ostavim kofer tu. Poslije par sati lutanja gradom ja se vratim kod tog trga da preuzmem kufer. Neki policajac na mene istrese neke pogrde i psovke da ostevim kufer na miru. Kada sam mu rekao da je to moj kufer, tražio je od mene da dokažem. Pitao me je šta sve imam u kuferu. Kada sam mu sve poimenice rekao, naredio mi je da otvorim kufer. Kada sam kufer otvorio i u njemu bile one stvari koje sam mu bio rekao, uvjerio se je da je to moj kufer, samo ga je zanimalo zašto sam ga tu ostavio. Kada sam mu rekao razlog da nisam imao dovoljno novca da kufer stavim u garderobu, samo se je nasmijao i rekao da su to sve seljačke stvari, po onoj “druže snađi se”.
Tako sam ja golobradat zbog pritiska i terora jugoslavenskog režima morao napustiti moje drage roditelje, braću i sestre, selo i susjede, put pod noge i u nepoznato. Ostalo se sve zna kuda sam sve prolazio, šta sam sve radio i koliko sam radio i koliko sam pomagao onima koji su se borili za ponovnu Obnovu Druge Hrvatske Države.
I enclose the names of my parents’ children. I am copying it from the Registry Book given to me by the Registrar of Goričko / Sovićka Parish Vlado Bogut on Sunday, May 7, 2007.
NAME, DATE AND PLACE OF BIRTH DATE AND PLACE OF DEATHPETAR July 6, 1907 – Sovići – September 23, 1981 – Sovići
IVA January 9, 1914 – Sovići – October 1, 1998 – Sovići
NAME DATE AND PLACE OF BIRTH DATE AND DATE OF DEATHJAKA – July 21, 1934 – Sovići
JERKO – September 7, 1935 – Sovići
MILA – February 16, 1938 – Sovići – August 9, 2018.
MILE – August 21, 1939 – Sovići
MATIJA – March 13, 1941 – Sovići –
RAFO – 13 August 1942 – Sovići – 13 January 1943.
RAFAEL – 2 February 1944 – Sovići – 4 April 2004.
IVAN – April 18, 1947 – Sovići – September 15, 1947.
DRAGAN – September 22, 1948 – Sovići -18. October 1948.
RUŽA – March 29, 1951 – Sovići – June 22, 1951.
MIRO – July 15, 1952 – Sovići – August 9, 1952.
STJEPAN – July 7, 1954 – Sovići – July 23, 1954.
VLADO – May 19, 1956 – Sovići – October 1, 1956.
My parents could neither read nor write. They were born illiterate and the illiterate died. My father died on September 23, 1981, and my mother on October 1, 1998. My parents were very pious and God-fearing. They were naturally very smart, in other words intelligent, especially my mother. They always advised us how to behave in front of others and in someone else’s house. We have always been told that older people always have an advantage and that we must always give way to them. That was the case before and let’s hope that it is the same today and that it will remain that way from generation to generation and be passed on to others.
My father was very strict. People who are strict by nature are known to be very sensitive and gentle. Such was my father, though I had to listen to him militarily. When we go to work in the fields, if he was in a good mood, we would go side by side and he would always tell me some stories and adventures he heard from his parents, neighbors, the elderly and all those stories would be so interesting that I still remember them. He told me how he was wounded in Romania in 1942 (Click on: I won’t, brother, when I could live like a man until now, I can from now on).
https://otporas.com/necu-brte-
Some stories went from ear to ear, from generation to generation and are so old that the history of the whole of Bobanova Draga – “Boban’s Valley” – could be reconstructed. One of these stories is how tobacco began to be planted in Bobanova Draga in the early 1800s, how the Turks ruled in our country at that time, how everything had to be reported to Aga, (some kind like a lord) how tribute (poll-tax) was collected and had to be given to the Turks by force. For that reason Andrijica Šimić went to Hajduk, as he was betrayed by a Garc in Runovići on January 13, 1871, and he was released from the Koper prison in 1901. My grandfather Gabro Boban (Vuškin) took him on horseback to Runovići on February 5, 1905 and how he died and was buried in the same cemetery where the traitor Garac, who had just died, was buried, and how, at Andrijica Šimić’s request, he was buried above the grave of the traitor Garac, so that Andrijeica Šimić’s feet touched the top of the grave of the traitor Garac. That was, as it was said, an obvious sign that the feet of the hero Andrijica Šimić were trampling the head of the traitor Garac. It’s just one story and there are hundreds of them.
Speaking of the stories that I have remembered and that I have carried with me for over six decades, I can’t forget them, because they stuck to my soles, so wherever I go, traces of those stories remain. One of them is when in 1956 I went to Grude for a evening gathering and from there to the village of Krištelica with my cousin Ante Grubišić, Lukin. I took with me a pistol of my father Petar, caliber 6.35. The gun was donated to him by his coeval and colleague Rafael, Ranko Boban. An “U” letter with the initials NDH was engraved on the barrel of the gun. I only had three (3) bullets. That was at the beginning of the winter of 1957. Of course we went to gathering on foot, because there were no other means then. When we passed Grudski Dom, right near Abudina’s house, on that small bend, climbing towards village of Marići, two policemen stopped us: hands up! We stopped. They want to search us. We did not let them to do that. Winter, night, clouds, nothing can be seen, the moon appears here and there from the clouds, they rushed to on us. Then I came out and said emphatically: “If you touch us, someone’s mother will cry tonight, either yours or ours. Leave us alone, you go in your way and we will go in ours. ” They relented and we continued to Krišteljica for evening gathering. But the end of this incident was not there. They, the militiamen, started coming to our house to disturb my father and tell him that they had problems with his son Milan, i.e. with me. I was there. That was in February 1957. There was, as it was officially said at the time, the “commander” of the People’s Station of the Sovići Militia, some Đuro, then some Milorad and some Milan Šorman. My father Petar listens to them and looks at me and tells me in a commanding tone to leave the house. I frowned, but obediently obeyed Ćaća, went out the north door of the kitchen towards the cistern and saw the ax behind the cistern. I didn’t think long. I took the ax, flew into the house and waving the ax at them, with a great uproar I ordered them to leave the house before there was blood and evil. They got up and left. But I remained their META = TARGET. I enclose a rebellious picture of that time.
TWO PICTURES:
First picture: Left Preka Grubišić and Mile Boban, January 1959 dressed in the costume of my late grandfather Gabro Boban, Vuškin (1879-New Year 1948) Belt, hat, holster / flint of my grandfather Gabro.
Another picture in the same place the same day: Mile Boban is sitting, in the back you can see a colorful bag/purse in which I brought all the combat tools, the bayonet of my father Petar, which he had while he was a Croatian Home Guard, an NDH soldier, and the gun referred to in these stories and descriptions. We were photographed by Vlado Grubišić, Ikulov.
They were the law for the government, although someone else’s, foreign government, and I am an individual who defends myself and does not give up. And that could be said, in short, and there is a lot of that from before, starting on Wednesday, May 31, 1950, when, that same authority, when my dear Father Peter at six (6) o’clock in the afternoon while he was spraying the vineyard on fields Padina and I was with him, was arrested and his hands tied with wire, and left us small children, one to each other’s ear, with our Mother alone. This could be the cause, among all other pressures of my escape from my beloved and dear Croatia.
I could continue with the stories I heard from the late Father Peter until the morning. But I will stop here for now and express my regret that I am only sorry that I did not have enough time to stay with Father Peter longer, than I would hear very important and useful stories for me. I left home very young. It was about 2 o’clock in the morning. While Mater was picking tobacco in the garden, I packed myself, took half of the bacon crust from the cellar, half of the corn and half of the wheat bread mixed from the pot, from the attic where Father and Mater slept, I took 1500 dinars from Father’s big wallet. that he brought from Belgium, an kilo of tobacco and took my sandals on feet and directed myself for Posušje, because there was my Workers’ Booklet that I had to pick up.
From Posušje I went to Mostar via Široki Brijeg. I took out a ticket to Sisak because my brother Jerko was there. The travel ticket cost me 1495 dinars Mostar – Sisak. I only have 5 dinars left in my pocket. I came to Sarajevo and had to wait until 10 pm for Sisak. I’ve been there almost all day. I could not put a wooden suitcase, the same one that my brother Jerko carried into the army in 1955. The wardrobe was more expensive than 5 dinars. I wanted to take a walk around the city but the suitcase bothered me. I was there by that square where there was water and some fish in the water, and some fountain. Since my feet were sweaty, I washed them there without anyone telling me anything. When that was the case, I left the suitcase there. After a few hours of wandering around the city, I return to that square to pick up my suitcase. Some policeman threw some insults and curses at me to leave my suitcase alone. When I told him it was my suitcase, he asked me to prove it. He asked me what I had in my suitcase. When I told him all the names, he ordered me to open the suitcase. When I opened the suitcase and it contained the things I had told him, he was convinced that it was my suitcase, he was just interested in why I left it there. When I told him the reason that I didn’t have enough money to put the suitcase in the wardrobe, he just laughed and said that it was all peasant things, according to the “comrade, get along” = “druže snađi se”.
So I, beardless boy by the pressure and terror of the Yugoslav regime, had to leave my dear parents, brothers and sisters, the village and the neighbors, took the road under my feet and went into the unknown. Everything else is known where I went, what I did and how much I did and how much I helped those who fought for the Renewal of the Second Croatian State.
Mile Boban
Odgovori
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