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- Diemaco
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Here is translated text from newspaper "svedok" and interview with pilot Peric.
http://www.armchairgeneral.com/forums/showthread.php?t=75416
"Friday, March 26th 1999. The third day of NATOs aggression.
The mighty engines of two -29s thundered in the late afternoon on the
(military) runway of the Batajnica airfield. Two hawks from "The Knights"
squadron took off: Lieutenant Colonel Slobodan Peric (39) and Major
Zoran Radosavljevic (34). They bravely went towards the black NATO planes. There were, it is said, ten to one.
The resolute pilot Peric did not "live through" his second conflict with
the aggressors. His Mig-29 was hit, shortly after takeoff over the river
Drina. The experienced knight, fortunately, survived!
But he will never celebrate March 26th as his second birthday. On this day,
every year, he will light candles on the Lece cemetery. A few minutes
before he was shot down, "The Knights" squadron lost its first pilot. His
comrade, Major Zoran Radosavljevic, went to heaven (Peric and Radosavljevic were awarded the Medal for Bravery).
Lieutenant Colonel slobodan Peric talks about the drama above the river
Drina.
Two of our colleagues who were at alert the whole day needed replacing. I
said: "I'll go. Who'll go with me?" At that moment Zoran received a call
from his sister Snezana, with a mobile phone, who told him that Lieutenant
Colonel Iljo Arizanov is alive! We didn't have any information about him for
two days. We was shot down. Zoran said: "I'll go with you. I haven't flown
in a while. It's better that I fly by day than by night". He hadn't flown in
a Mig for several months because of an English course, and almost a year has gone by since he last flew by night.
We got the alert signal at 16:40, through his mobile telephone. We took off
a few minutes before 17:00. We were ordered to fly north, across Banat. I
decided that we should fly extremely low, around 15-20 meters, so we'll be
harder to notice. Zoran followed me. When we were over Zrenjanin, the
guidance officer ordered: "Turn south!".
In the vicinity of Fruska Gora, at about 200 meters, I noticed that my
radar was malfunctioning. My aircraft was unusable in combat.I couldn't fire
any missiles with a longer range than the IC-missiles. I depended on Zoran.
I told him to watch carefully and to tell me if he sees anything.
I asked the communications officer where"blue" (NATO airplane) is, which he
told us is running west from Valjevo. He gave us a distance of 14
kilometers. There were several fighters around us, which we couldn't
visually see at that distance. By what was happening, I conclude that
Zoran's radar was malfunctioning as well.
"Let's go up!" I gave the order to Zoran.
From low level flight we ascended to 7000 meters at 950 kph, and passed
through the clouds. The guidance officer told us that "blue" is in from of
us, at the same distance. I told him that we'll cross the "line" (border) if
we continue to chase it. We needed 50-60 kilometers to reach him, but we
were around 30 kilometers from the "line". We didn't get an answer!
As we neared the border, Zoran radioed me that the intruder is on our right
side. I thought he had it on radar. I ordered: "Excellent, pass, launch, I'm
behind you!" He said : "No, at spo!" That meant that we were illuminated,
that the NATO fighters have detected us. I commanded: "Break left!". We lost them, and then resumed our old course.
The guidance officer radioed us: "It looks like someone from that group
went after you!"
I saw four white trails as they headed towards us. I thought they were
"Tomahawks" and planned to shoot them down with IC missiles. However, the white trail soon disappeared.
(TJ note: Both F-15 pilots combat-jettisoned their external fuel tanks. The streaming venting fuel from the tanks was probably what Major Peric witnessed. The F-15s were up at approx 20,000ft at this point. )
I knew they had fired missiles on us. I ordered: "Run, missiles!".
He replied: "I'm running for the clouds!". Those were the last words I
heard. I made an anti-missile maneuver, turned the plane on its back, turned left, then right. The first missile missed me, but the second one hit my right
engine, in the hind part of the Mig. I attempted to make a break for our
territory, but the stick didn't react. My Mig started to lose altitude. Air
started streaming into the (zabranjeno)ed cockpit. I hung by the belts in the
plane. I was at around 7000 meters. I pulled the eject handle. I fell
through the clouds so long that I froze!
When I was at around 4000 meters I saw where I was. I recognized my
birthplace, Loznica, Ugljevik, the lake... I didn't know where I was going
to land. I was afraid that the Muslims will capture me.I saw the burning
plane hit the ground and the explosion that followed. Below me- oak woods.
What if I get stuck in a tree? Some 50 meters from the ground, something
turned me for 180 degrees, towards our territory. I hit the ground with my
102 kilos, which is what I weighted then. I go the wind knocked out of me,
but luckily didn't get hurt. (Peric landed near the Serb village of Donja
Krèmina, in the Republic of Srpska, while the plane fell into a minefield on
the Muslim side of the hill, behind the village Laza).
I discarded my chute, and started uphill, with my helmet still on, towards
our territory. I was around 10 kilometers from the river Drina. I wanted to
swim across it. But, two groups of armed civilians approached me. Luckily, I
didn't make a break for the woods, where the Muslims waited. I was chased by the Serbs and the "Turks"; both thought that I was an American!
I avoided the first group of civilians. I couldn't do so with the second,
which contained 15-20 peasants. They were very close. They walked with some 20 meter gaps between them straight at me. If I started to run, they
would've cut me down. They all had "kalashnikovs".
I decided to call out to them and yell; "Hello boys!"
They all stopped. Three or four children were with them, that ran towards
me. They started to yell: "Stop, he'll kill you all!"
"I said: "don't be afraid, I don't kill children!"
The bravest one approached me and asked for some identification. I didn't
bring them. The VJ marking on my flight-suit don't help. he asks: "Who are
you?"
What am I supposed to say!? I don't know if they're Serbs or Muslims!
"I'm one of us!" I say
"Who us?" he asks
"A Serb!" I reply
Somebody from the group says: "See the aggressor, SOB, he knows Serbian!
"The main man" asks: "What have you got in your pockets?"
I take out my gun, and he says: "Yes, our gun, CZ-99!"
The other one finds 200-300 dinars in my pocket and yells: "He is one of
us, the SOB. If he were an American, he'd have more money!" I proposed that we go to the nearest house, so I can make a phonecall to convince them of my identity. I was afraid that “apaches" will come and pick me up. They agreed.
I didn't want to call my wife Vera in Belgrade right away. I gave them a
number of a relative across Drina, but they seemed to mix up the digits. A
medical orderly from the next village took the call. I know the man. After
much dragging, I told them who I was.
They started to apologize, to offer me food and drink. I refused
everything. I asked for transportation so I could leave as soon as possible.
I called my wife in Belgrade: "Listen Vera, I was up, now I'm down. I'm
alive and well, near to my birthplace, on the other side of the "line". I
wanted her to call my squadron and tell them I'm alive.
They gave me a tight worker's outfit, put me into a car and drove me. After
a kilometer or two, the police came by.
"Where is the pilot?" they asked
"Here he is, this one!" they point at me.
"What kind of a pilot is he?"
"One of ours, Serbian!" my rescuers reply
The policemen say: "Mother of..., it'd be better if we hadn't found him",
and leave. They all thought that they caught an American.
Soon they transferred me to another car. Guys from Bjeljina took me over.
They waited for the night to fall, for two hours they led me around the
village and showed me to their uncles, aunts... and then at the Bjeljina
bridge handed me over to "state" RS. They took me to Raca.
I called my wife again and told her to tell where I am. Soon a General
called me and asked: "Did you do anything smart?". I replied that I didn't
fire any missiles, and he retorted: "Sit there and keep quiet!"
Time went by. When the policemen in Raca saw that my back was hurting they called our "Securityman" in Sremska Mitrovica, but couldn't reach him. They got the duty officer, and he says to them: "Don't we have a vehicle for something like this?"
I was brought to Batajnica by the Batajnica police. Nobody asked me
anything. I told what had happened. Soon General Ljubisa Velickovic came,
greeted me and said: "You were lucky, but Zoran Radosavljevic wasn't!"
That's when I found out that my Pavo, as we used to call him, was killed.
My heart hurt! What am I to say to his mother, sister, girlfriend?! It
seemed that Zoran sensed the tragedy. That day, while we drove to the unite
he said: "See Buco, you've left something behind you, you have two children.
Now I'm sorry that I didn't marry, that I have no children. I should have
married Tanja, so at least something should remain to her."
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