Je li Bruno Bušić znao da će biti ubijen? ‘Vidim pogreb ovdje u Parizu u vrijeme kada lišće opada. Doći će brojni Hrvati’

Zvonko Bušić vjerovao je kako dobre stvari trebaju biti dostupne svima. Ono za što je živio, radio i vjerovao, za što je podnio žrtvu, objavljeno je u knjizi “Zdravo oko”, koja je dostupna na Amazonu. pod nazivom “All Visible Things”. Taj djelić hrvatske povijesti odsad ćete moći čitati svake druge srijede na hrvatskom i engleskom jeziku, na portalu dijaspora.hr. Poglavlje po poglavlje, kap krvi po kap krvi i život dan po dan u 33 dijela – samo s jednim ciljem! Trajat će…

Smrt u Parizu

Rekoh već u prethodnom poglavlju da je nama mlađima još u Imotskom Bruno Bušić bio svojevrsni uzor. Njegova tragična sudbina kasnije je postala uzoritom na razini nacionalne povijesti. Međutim, meni osobno, od tih imotskih dana do njegove smrti i moga tamnovanja, Bruno je bio i ostao uzor, prijatelj, suborac i supatnik u stradanju za hrvatsku slobodu.

S Brunom sam se intenzivno družio i od njega mnogo naučio. Bio je idejni i intelektualni vođa cijele generacije hrvatskih domoljuba. Bruno je bio rođeni vođa. Od mnogih naših zajedničkih trenutaka posebno mi je u sjećanju ostao jedan događaj iz Pariza. Bile su to olovne godine kada se nakon Hrvatskog proljeća hrvatska stvar činila gotovo izgubljenom bitkom.

Sastali smo se s jednim našim imućnim imigrantom, koji nas iz obiteljskih i sigurnosnih razloga nije primio u svome domu, pa smo se našli u hotelu. Taj našijenac bio je korektan prema nama, a osobito je cijenio i volio Brunu. Međutim, bio je u dosluhu s francuskom obavještajnom službom. To smo tada već znali, no jedan je događaj od ranije, dok još nismo znali za njegove veze s francuskom policijom i njihovim službama, mučio Brunu.

Radilo se o nesporazumu između Brune i Josipa Senića. Sa Senićem sam se prvi put susreo u Clevelandu 1970. Ostavio je na mene izniman dojam. Bio je čovjek zgodan i stasit, do kraja odan hrvatskoj stvari – idealist. Poslije toga sreli smo se i dugo razgovarali u Berlinu. Tada je već slutio da se oko njega steže obruč, Udba ga je označila kao metu. Od mene je želio doznati zašto se Bruno na njega ljuti. Tada ni ja nisam znao što je posrijedi, no kasnije mi je Bruno ispričao cijelu priču.

Taj našijenac iz Pariza dobronamjerno je Bruni dao do znanja da nije dobro da se viđa sa Senićem jer je ovaj obilježen kao pripadnik Hrvatskog revolucionarnog bratstva i Udba ga je bila uzela na zub. Bilo je to u vrijeme kada je Bruno legalno boravio u Parizu gdje je upisao poslijediplomski studij iz političke ekonomije. Naravno, planirao se vratiti u Zagreb, gdje bi ga zbog susreta sa Senićem mogli uhititi. Ne znajući tada još da taj naš čovjek u Parizu surađuje s francuskom policijom, Bruno je pomislio da se Senić sam negdje izlanuo. To mu je rekao u oči i s njim prekinuo odnose. Kolikogod kao čovjek bio blag, Bruno je u takvim slučajevima bio jako odriješit i tvrd. Kasnije kada je shvatio da je pogriješio, Bruni je bilo jako teško, jer Senić je već bio mrtav. Ubijen je 10. ožujka 1972. u Wieslochu.

Za Senićevo ubojstvo doznao sam čitajući novine u vlaku iz Frankfurta. Putovao sam na sastanak s njim. Tada sam, čini mi se, prvi put jasno osjetio da vjerojatno i mene čeka slična sudbina. Zakleo sam se da neću dopustiti da me samo tako likvidiraju prije nego što učinim nešto veliko, nešto što će uzdrmati svjetsku javnost i skrenuti joj pozornost na neravnopravnu borbu hrvatskih revolucionara protiv satrapskoga jugoslavenskog režima.

Jedne večeri s Brunom u Parizu dogovarao sam akciju koja bi imala upravo takav odjek. Senić je već nekoliko godina bio mrtav, a isti hladni obruč smrti koji mu je došao glave stezao se oko Brune i mene. Morali smo nešto poduzeti, nekako iskupiti vrlo vjerojatnu vlastitu smrt. Razgovarali smo i o Seniću. Bruni je bilo silno žao što je svojedobno optužio ispravna čovjeka. Te večeri koja mi je ostala u sjećanju nije mi se dalo spavati pa sam izašao iz svoje sobe da vidim spava li Bruno ili je još budan. Zateknem ga u sobi, sjedi za stolom, ali pred njim nikakvih papira. Vidim, ništa ne piše. Nalaktio se na stol, glavu stavio u dlanove, a oči mu blage i tužne u isti mah. Kao isprane suzama. Pitam ga što radi, a on mi veli da je razmišljao o Seniću. Osjetim da ga boli što se sve tako odigralo. Optužio sam prava čovjeka, kaže, a ne mogu ga moliti za oprost.

Uza sve osobne patnje i stradanja Bruno je bio vrlo dobrohotne i mirne naravi, a ujedno je zračio silnom snagom i velikom životnom radošću. Najviše sam se divio njegovoj spremnosti na osobnu žrtvu, a najdublje me se doimala njegova pronicljivost, dalekovidnost, intuicija. Bio je nekako sjetan te večeri. Razgovarali smo o našoj sudbini, o skitničkom životu, našoj borbi, rodnom kraju, suborcima kojih više nema. A onda mi u jednom trenutku kaže: “A ima još nešto, bio sam danas kod one poznate Bugarke što proriče sudbinu. Pitao sam je kada će umrijeti Tito”. Malo sam se iznenadio jer sam znao da Bruno nije sklon takvim stvarima, bio je idealist čvrsta karaktera, gotovo je fatalistički vjerovao u sudbinu, trivijalnosti je prezirao, a praznovjerje bilo koje vrste bilo mu je strano. Mora da ga je progonila neka slutnja. Ispriča mi što mu je rekla bugarska gatara: „Vidim uskoro pogreb, dok lišće zeleni, ni pet godina neće proći, bit će na njemu uglednici iz cijeloga svijeta i brojne krunjene glave među njima.“

Zatim ga je, veli mi Bruno, Bugarka iznenada priupitala je li on možda Hrvat. Kada joj je odgovorio da jest, ona je dodala: „Ali prije tog pogreba dok lišće zeleni, vidim pogreb ovdje u Parizu u vrijeme kad lišće opada. Na taj pogreb doći će brojni Hrvati jer će se raditi o smrti nekog znamenitog Hrvata“. Premda ne vjerujem u proricanja bilo koje vrste, uostalom ljudski život i vrijedi živjeti upravo zato što je nepredvidljiv, kosnulo me to što mi je te večeri rekao Bruno. Taj Hrvat koji će biti pokopan u Parizu nije mogao biti nitko drugi nego sâm Bruno.

Kažem mu da su to gluposti na koje se ne treba osvrtati. Uostalom, ionako se već predugo zadržao u Parizu, možda bi bilo dobro da malo promijeni grad i državu. Proročica vjerojatno govori gluposti, ali zašto ne bi za svaki slučaj malo promijenio sredinu. On me samo ozbiljno i sjetno pogleda: „Zvonko, kada bih to učinio, onda bi ispalo da vjerujem u njezine riječi. Ali dopustimo da je ona čak i u pravu, zar misliš da se sudbini može pobjeći!? Ovako ili onako, ostajem u Parizu”.

Silno je volio taj grad. I kada već nije mogao umrijeti u Zagrebu, siguran sam da bi, da je slučajno mogao birati, i sam izabrao Pariz kao mjesto smrti. Slaba je to utjeha, znam, no onome tko krene putom kojim smo Bruno i ja krenuli utjeha i ne treba. Znali smo da ne možemo birati ni mjesto ni vrijeme smrti, no zato smo mladi i puni života svjesno izabrali razlog smrti. Borbu za slobodu vlastitog naroda.

Puno poslije kraja svibnja 1976. u Parizu, razmišljao sam često o sudbini poginulih suboraca i o vlastitoj sudbini. Bilo je trenutaka kada sam im zavidio što su pobjegli u okrilje smrti, tamo gdje ih ničija ruka i nijedna bol ne može dohvatiti, kada sam dugo razgovarao s njihovim sjenama, prepirao se s njima i obnavljao stare zavjete. Narod međutim nikada nisam proklinjao niti sam žalio zbog činjenice da sam rođen kao Hrvat. Štoviše, sudbini sam na tome bio zahvalan. Ako se kojem suvremenom čitatelju ove misli učine odviše patetičnima, neka pokuša stvari sagledati na drugi način, bez cinizma u koji je ogrezlo naše vrijeme. Neka, recimo, razmisli o tome za što bi on bio spreman umrijeti. Ako dođe do zaključka da ništa nije vrijedno žrtvovanja, morat će svejedno priznati da ćemo svi mi, ovako ili onako, ipak jednoga dana umrijeti. Taj se dan mladom čovjeku čini dalek i nestvaran, no iz perspektive vječnosti on je tek trenutak. Stoga je najveća dragocjenost, koju čovjek za života može steći, spoznati razlog za koji je spreman umrijeti. To je ujedno i razlog za život dostojan čovjeka.

Život u prirodi ima svoju logiku, sve živo nastoji takvim i ostati. Čovjek tu nije nikakva iznimka, nagon za preživljavanjem najsnažniji je od svih nagona. Međutim, čovjek nije samo to, samo nagon, štoviše upravo po tome što je u stanju osvijestiti taj nagon i nadvladati ga u ime nekih viših, isključivo ljudskih vrijednosti i ciljeva, čovjek i jest čovjek. Pola dosadašnjeg života proveo sam u zatvorskoj džungli i znam što znači borba za preživljavanje, pa ipak ostao sam živjeti u svojim uvjerenjima iz mladih dana da život vrijedi samo onda kada postoji ono za što smo ga spremni žrtvovati. U životnom poretku stvari koji se razvija od pojedinca i obitelji do naroda, narod mi se, ako se čovjeku nije posrećilo da ostavi iza sebe biološko potomstvo, oduvijek činio kao jedino ovozemaljsko jamstvo njegova postojanja. Jedini medij u kojemu ostaje trag da je tu bio i prolazio.

Trag Brune Bušića duboko je urezan u povijesno sjećanje naroda kojemu je pripadao upravo zbog njegove čvrste vjere da ima za što živjeti i umrijeti. Što se same Brunine smrti tiče, oko toga događaja ostalo je još mnogo nerazjašnjenih stvari. Nejasno je zašto se te kobne večeri nakon jednog sastanka vraćao sam u stan. Njegov neformalni tjelohranitelj Nediljko Vegar bio je u to vrijeme u njemačkom zatvoru zbog relativno banalnog razloga, zbog posjedovanja pištolja. Nije stoga isključeno da su i neki inozemni krugovi bili uključeni u pomaganje Udbi u izvedbi atentata na Brunu. Onemogućavanjem Vegara da ga štiti, oni koji su mu htjeli naškoditi učinili su Brunu puno lakšom metom.

Ni procesi koji su kasnije vođeni, ni knjige koje su o Bruni napisane, nisu nam ponudili prikladne odgovore na brojne nedoumice u vezi s Bruninom smrću. Hrvatski narod svome junaku duguje, osim lijepe grobnice na Mirogoju i zasluženog mjesta u povjesnici, istinu o njegovoj smrti i otkrivanje krivaca.

Jedna od posljedica uznemirenosti i trzavica u hrvatskoj emigraciji nakon Brunine smrti bila je i tragična sudbina emigranta Joze Miloša iz Gruda. Po mojim spoznajama, Miloš je stradao na pravdi Boga. Njegova uloga u političkom životu hrvatske emigracije nije znatna, ali zaslužuje brisanje sumnje s njegova imena ako nije kriv. A nije, barem po onome što sam o tome uspio doznati. Stoga se i za njegovu smrt, bez obzira tko ga je ubio, može ustvrditi da ju je skrivila Udba. Barem posredno. Šireći podvale, dezinformacije i paranoju u hrvatskoj emigraciji, Udba je hrvatskim borcima za slobodu i hrvatskoj stvari nanijela štete gotovo koliko i izravnim akcijama. Sve sam to i sam toliko puta osjetio na vlastitoj koži.

Zvonko Bušić

EN

Zvonko believed that good things should be shared with everyone. What he lived, worked for and believed in, what he sacrificed for, is presented in his book “All Visible Things”, which is available on Amazon. From now on, you will be able to have access to this part of Croatian history every other Wednesday and print it out free of charge, in Croatian and English, on the dijaspora.hr portal. Chapter by chapter, drop of blood by drop of blood, and life day by day in 33 parts – with only one goal! He will live on…

Death in Paris

I mentioned in the previous chapter that Bruno Busic was a kind of idol to us in our early years in Imotski. His tragic destiny later became even more significant on the level of national history. Meanwhile, from those days of my youth until his death, Bruno was and remains a friend, fellow veteran, and martyr in the struggle for Croatian freedom.

I spent a lot of time with Bruno and learned a lot from him. He was the intellectual forerunner of an entire generation of Croatian patriots. He was also a born leader. Of our many shared moments together, I especially remember an occurrence in Paris. These were the stormy years after the Croatian Spring, when it seemed the battle had been lost. (Note: also called masovni pokret or MASPOK, for “mass movement”, the Croatian Spring was a political movement in the early 1970s that called for democratic and economic reforms in Yugoslavia and therefore more rights for Croatia within Yugoslavia. In 1971, the Yugoslav authorities suppressed the movement by extreme force.) We met with one of our more well-to-do immigrants who, because of his family and concerns about security, could not ask us to his house, so we met in a hotel. This gentleman behaved correctly toward us, and he especially admired and liked Bruno. Meanwhile, he was collaborating with the French intelligence services. We knew that already, but there was something that happened earlier, before we knew about this connection, that really plagued Bruno.

It concerned a disagreement between Bruno and Josip Senic. (Note: Senic, about whom little is known, was a zealous proponent of Croatian freedom. He had returned to Europe from Australia to continue the struggle, but was murdered by the Yugoslav Secret Police, or UDBA, soon thereafter.) I met Senic for the first time in Cleveland in 1970. He left a deep impression on me. He was good-looking and fit and totally dedicated to the Croatian cause: an idealist. Afterwards we met in Berlin and talked for a long time. He sensed already that the noose around him was beginning to tighten and that the UDBA, or Yugoslav secret police, had targeted him. He wanted to know why Bruno was upset with him. At that time, I did not know what the problem was, but later Bruno told me the whole story. This fellow Croatianin Paris told Bruno with the best of intentions that it wasn’t wise for him to be seeing Senic because he’d been marked as a member of the Croatian

Revolutionary Brotherhood and the UDBA had him in its scopes. Bruno was in Paris legally at the time, working on his master’s degree and participating in various theater activities. He naturally planned on returning to Zagreb where he would probably be arrested because of his meetings with Senic. Not knowing then that this associate of ours in Paris was working with the French police, Bruno assumed that Senic had blurted something out about him. Bruno told him this to his face and severed all relations. As gentle as he could be, Bruno could also be quite brusque and tough in cases like this.

When he later realized he had been mistaken, he took it hard, because Senic was already dead. He’d been murdered on March 10, 1972 in Wiesloch, Germany. I learned of his murder in the newspapers as I was traveling by train from Frankfurt to meet him. That was the first time, I believe, that I really felt that the same fate awaited me. I swore I would never allow myself to be liquidated before doing something significant, something that would shake up the world and direct attention to the unequal struggle of Croatian revolutionaries against the violent Yugoslav regime.

One evening in Paris with Bruno I discussed the action that would have that very effect. Senic had been already dead for several years, and the same cold noose was tightening around Bruno and me. We had to do something to somehow compensate for our probable imminent death. We talked about Senic. Bruno deeply regretted having accused a good man. That night I just couldn’t sleep, so I left the room to see whether Bruno was asleep or awake. I found him in his room, sitting at the table, but without any papers or anything in front of him. I saw that he wasn’t writing anything. His elbows were resting on the table, his head between his hands, his eyes gentle and sad at the same time, as though washed by tears. I asked him what he was doing and he told me he’d been thinking about Senic. I saw his pain at the way things had played out. “I accused an innocent man,” he said, “and now it’s too late to ask his forgiveness.”

In spite of all his personal sufferings and tribulations, Bruno had a very benevolent and calm nature, while at the same time he exuded great strength and joy of life. I was most deeply impressed by his willingness for personal sacrifice; his vision, intuition, and sensitivity.

He was somehow sad that night. We talked about our destinies, our vagrant lives, our struggle, where we were born, colleagues that were no longer with us. And then all of a sudden he said: “I went to that well-known Bulgarian fortune-teller today. I asked her when Tito was going to die.” I was somewhat surprised, knowing Bruno did not usually go in for that kind of thing; he was an idealist of strong character, believed almost fatalistically in Destiny, loathed triviality, and superstition was totally foreign to him. He must have been plagued by some sense of foreboding. He then related to me what the fortune teller had said: “I see a funeral soon, when the leaves turn green, before five years pass, and famous people around the world will be there, many crowned heads.” And then Bruno told me she asked him out of the blue if he was perhaps Croatian. When he answered affirmatively, she continued: “But before this funeral, I see one here in Paris when the leaves begin to fall. Many Croatians will attend this funeral because it will be that of a notable Croatian.”

Although I do not believe in fortune-telling of any kind – human life, after all, is worth living exactly because it is unpredictable – I was still shocked by what Bruno told me that night. The Croatian buried in Paris could be none other than Bruno himself! I told him that was ridiculous and that he shouldn’t pay any attention to it. That he had perhaps been in Paris too long; maybe it would be good to change city and country. That the fortune-teller was probably talking nonsense, but why not just change his environment, just in case?

He just gave me a long, penetrating look: “Zvonko, if I do that, it would seem like I believed what she said. But let’s assume she is right, do you think we can escape our fate? Either way, I’m staying in Paris.” He adored the city. And if he couldn’t die in Zagreb, I’m sure that if he could choose, he would choose Paris as his place of death. It’s of small consolation, I know, but to those who take the path Bruno and I had taken, no consolation is necessary. We knew we couldn’t choose the time or place of death, but being young and full of life, we could certainly consciously choose the reason for it: the struggle for our own people’s freedom. A long time after May 1976 in Paris, I often thought about the fate of colleagues who had died and about my own destiny. There were times that I envied them for escaping into death’s embrace, where no hand, no pain, could ever reach them, and I held long conversations with their shadows, argued with them, renewed old vows. But I never cursed or regretted having been born Croatian. In fact, I was grateful.

If a contemporary reader finds these thoughts pathetic, he should attempt to see things another way, without the cynicism that has consumed our times. Think about what he himself would be prepared to die for. If he concludes there is nothing worth dying for, then he will at least have to concede that all of us, one way or another, will die someday. That day might seem far off and unreal to a young person, but from the perspective of eternity, it is a mere moment in time. So the greatest treasure a man can achieve is the knowledge of what he would be willing to die for. For a worthy man, that is also the reason to live.

Living according to nature has its logic, and all living things attempt to keep it that way. Man is no exception here, as the will to survive is the strongest of all instincts. Meanwhile, man is more than his instincts; the fact that he is conscious of this instinct and able to overcome it in the name of even higher human values and goals is what makes him aman. I have spent half of my life thus far in a prison jungle and I know what it means to survive, but I am still convinced in what I believed in my youth: that life is worth living only if one has something he is willing to sacrifice it for. In the scheme of life, of all that develops from the individual and on to the family and then nation (in the event that one is not blessed with biological offspring), it always seemed to me that the nation is the only guarantee in the world of one’s existence. It is the only means by which the mark of man’s presence is seen, proof that he has been here and passed by. The mark left by Bruno Busic is deep, carved into the historical memory of the nation to which he belonged, specifically because he firmly believed he did have a reason to live and a reason to die.

As far as his death is concerned, there are still many unresolved issues surrounding it. It is unclear why he returned home alone that fateful night after a meeting. His informal bodyguard, NediljkoVegar, was in a German prison at that time for a relatively banal reason – possession of a pistol he carried to defend Bruno. So it cannot be ruled out that certain foreign circles were involved in helping the UDBA perpetrate an assassination on Bruno. Preventing Vegar from protecting him made him a much easier target for those who wished to harm him. Neither the trials nor the books written about Bruno have succeeded in providing adequate answers to the whirlwind of questions surrounding his death. The Croatian people owe its hero more than a nice monument at Mirogoj cemetery and a mention in history books. It owes him the truth about his death and punishment of the guilty parties.

One of the consequences of the hysteria and uncertainty among the Croatian emigration after Bruno’s death was the tragic fate of the emigrant, Jozo Milos, from Grude. To the best of my knowledge, Milos died an innocent man. His role in the political life of the Croatian emigration was not that significant, but he deserves to have all doubt about his guilt erased if, in fact, he was innocent. And based on everything I have been able to discover, he was. So it could be said that the responsibility for his death, regardless of who killed him, is on the UDBA. At least indirectly. By spreading rumors, disinformation, and paranoia in the Croatian emigration, the UDBA did almost as much harm to the Croatian freedom fighters as by direct actions. I experienced this firsthand on many occasions.

Zvonko Bušić

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