Author of The Dark Secrets of SHTF Survival and the online course SHTF Survival Boot Camp
Note: Here’s one of the stories in Selco’s new book, SHTF Survival Stories, Vol. 1, which you can purchase here.
These story collections can only be found in the PDF books and are not available anywhere online. Volume 1 contains 17 stories. I found that the book reads a lot like survival fiction short stories – except for the fact that they’re all true. In this one, he discusses what he learned from his Great Uncle, a war veteran, and encourages us to learn from the stories of old people.
Selco manages to share the brutality of those times and still add in the glimpses of humanity that are so important. Because without it, we’re just animals. ~ Daisy
My great uncle was a drinking man. He would drink heavily from the moment when he woke up until the moment he went to bed, but I do not remember ever seeing him stumbling, walking funny, or having problems with his speech.
When he was at home his favorite spot was on the couch in the corner of the room, just next to the wood stove which was running always except on really hot days.
He drank from very small glasses (shot glasses), the bottle was never visible (he kept bottle behind the couch) on the table there was the silver box for cigarettes, with tobacco and papers for cigarette rolling inside, and his shot glass.
The table was old type table with a glass plate on top of it, and under that glass, he kept paper that says that government and state recognize him as a member and organizer of the early resistance movement against the German and Italian occupation (WW2).
Table, his cigarette box, his rakija and everything else in his room was off-limits for us kids. He lived with my grandparents, he never married, no kids.
Actually, now when I remember he himself was pretty much off-limits for us kids, the only person who ever had some influence over him was my grandmother-his sister, she was the only one who could tell him sometimes that he needs to do something.
He was one tough and dangerous old dude, sitting in the room. Drinking and staring in the spot where the wall connects to the ceiling.
Sometimes we kid sneak in the room, seeking stories, or money from him, in return we would bring firewood from the shed for his never-ending stove fire.
He would give us money often from his big “veteran warrior” pension, stories were rare.
Often kids just sat there, talking something, he would occasionally say “umm” or “hmm” and stare in empty space.
The veteran’s hall
He did not go out very much, except for his regular chess meetings in the local community hall, a war veteran organization and heavy drinking joint place in one.
People call it “half leg” because of several handicapped folks who were there all the time.
And I was a kid who often went with him there, my grandmother often would tell me “go with him there and wait for him”, I guess she simply was worried for him.
The place was a big hall with old tables with games like chess and checkers on them. Great Uncle would sit down usually with some folks there, his old war comrades.
They would play chess, drink heavy booze and over time they would usually forget that I am even there.
[page_section template=’3′ position=’default’ shadow=’#dd9933′]
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In that time, I was taught in the school that we are living in great socialistic and communistic society, where all people are equal, and that we got to that point through the heroic and noble fighting of working-class in WW2.
War and fights were something noble, heroic and full of sacrifice. Our war vets were ‘clean’; they were people who sacrifice themselves for our motherland – for a socialistic society.
I was taught like that, in my young mind, all was black and white.
Those old guys looked at war a lot differently.
Over time I realized that folks on that table together with my great uncle had a bit of a different picture about war and fighting and honor.
They talked about everything, but with heavy slang and in what looked to me in that time in ‘codes’, and a lot of “remember the Mora(mountain) and how we eat shoes”? and the answer would be “yeah, f*ck it, and how many bodies there.”
A lot of that was not understandable for me, a lot of head-nodding,
One of those chess games stayed in my mind over several decades of the time since I heard it at that table:
The man who played chess with my great uncle had a pieces of shell in his body, I think it was not an option to remove it so he grows old with that in his body, he had a couple of pieces in his arm and fingers, and while he was thinking about his next chess move he would squeeze his fist and fingers and pieces of shell in his fingers were producing the sound like something is chewing inside his hand.
It was fascinating to me at that time.
What I understand from their story was this:
He and my great uncle found themselves in some heavy fighting during the WW2.
Their unit was carrying a lot of heavily wounded together with a lot of civilians who were running from German forces.
A sudden attack of Germans made chaos and them together with a couple of guys got separated from the unit.
They manage to break out from the encirclement, then they hide inside some cave for a couple of days.
They ate tree bark.
Days later they went out and wandered through woods trying to go to the safe territory.
And then they stumble members of their unit.
Actually, a pile of them.
On one small clear place in the woods, there were hundreds of bodies in a big pile, and a man with the “chewing” in his fist said he never before or later saw anything like that.
Soldiers and civilians were shot and put on a big pile of bodies in the middle of nowhere, and he said that lot of them were heavily wounded but still alive. Actually, they were put there intentionally still alive, to suffer more before they die.
They found a couple of women tied to the trees… Dead.
They quickly move away from there, scared.
Later that night while they were resting they heard noises, quietly went to check and find out German soldier sitting down and bandaging wound on his leg, probably lost and separated from his unit.
They killed him with a bayonet, and as I understand they killed him slowly.
That story terrified me to the bones, and I think I heard it only because they were pretty drunk and not even realized I was with them.
My great uncle’s stories happen again and again
My great uncle died a long time ago, he was a heavy drinker too to the last breath.
At his funeral, there were flags, and speech about honor and sacrifice, even his medals.
We never found his wartime machine gun “major” (MP 40) that he hid somewhere after the war never giving up to anyone where it is, and as I am older I feel sorry I did not hear more about his experiences.
I am sure he cared a lot more for that machine gun than for speeches, flags, and medals.
I do not remember him as a war hero, and I am sure he did not think of himself as a war hero.
He was scared often while he was in a survival situation, he often did things that he did not like, he was not invincible, and he was ready for trouble again all the time.
He was a survivalist.
The point of this story is the memory of something, in this case, the memory of my great uncle.
And there is one more point, for you more important:
Talk with old folks, with veterans, old or young. There is nothing like a real-life experience.
Be patient, the best (or worst) stories are hardest to get, but it is precious knowledge.
It is a better prepper investment to hear how (and what) tree bark to eat than to buy 10 MREs.
Many years after my great-uncle experiences and events I experienced similar things, hunger, fighting, piles of bodies…
It is in human nature, things like this are happening and will happen again…
About Selco:
Selco survived the Balkan war of the 90s in a city under siege, without electricity, running water, or food distribution. He is currently accepting students for his next physical course here.
In his online works, he gives an inside view of the reality of survival under the harshest conditions. He reviews what works and what doesn’t, tells you the hard lessons he learned, and shares how he prepares today.
He never stopped learning about survival and preparedness since the war. Regardless of what happens, chances are you will never experience extreme situations as Selco did. But you have the chance to learn from him and how he faced death for months.
- Read more of Selco’s articles here.
- Buy his PDF books here.
- Buy his #1 New Release paperback, The Dark Secrets of Survival here.
- Take advantage of a deep and profound insight into his knowledge by signing up for his online course SHTF Survival Boot Camp.
- Learn the inside story of what it was really like when the SHTF with his online course One Year in Hell.
Real survival is not romantic or idealistic. It is brutal, hard and unfair. Let Selco take you into that world.
What a powerful story & well told. I, too, had an uncle who returned from WWII with what was then called “shell shock” but that we know now as PTSD. Most of us can’t even imagine the horrors these young people experienced. I’m old now & wish I had more of their stories to remember & pass on.
This piece is full of typos. For example:
Actually, now when I remember he himself was pretty much off limits for us kids, the only person who ever had some influence over him was my grandmother-his sister, she was the only one who could tell him sometimes that he needs to do something.
Should read:
Thinking back he was pretty much off limits to us kids. The only one who had any influence over him was my grandmother-his sister. She was the only one who had the balls to tell him when he needed to do something. And when she spoke, he listened.
Since you consider yourself such a perfect writer, I must point out that the “mistakes” you think he made were not typos. Your “corrections” indicate you meant the sentence needed editing. Selco’s native language is not English, so what he writes should not be expected to conform to the standards of professional writers. What he wrote was easy to understand, which is good enough for most of us. Perhaps you would be a happier and less critical person if you quit reading the works of others and instead wrote a masterpiece for other writers to emulate.
That’s incredibly rude, Sue.
Selco is Bosnian. He speaks 6 languages and writes for us in a language that is not his first. I lightly edit for clarity, but the stories are Selco’s and he should be the one to tell them.
If “typos” are the only thing you took from this story, I have to wonder why you’re reading a survival website. There are some incredible lessons there which you appear to have missed.
From above: “He (Selco) speaks 6 languages”.
Students in the European grade school system (Gymnasium) are required to take two language courses and an elective later. My mother, also from that region, spoke eight to nine languages and various local dialects of each language plus knowing Esperanto. And she could write in some as well, adding to the difficulty of having to translate a new language in real time.
The main point, for me, is that Selco speaks honestly from experience, to the point and what I consider the heart. As they used to say in the military, what he says, “could save your life someday” if one cares to listen.
Really. What is more important, a soulless wonder-bread translated version or the ability to learn from Selco’s writings and quickly “read” a SHTF situation without having to have gone through the experience and carry the consequences for the rest of your life, if you live?
That would be the lesson of Selco’s article above … if you “read” it correctly.
Really!!!
Americans should read and learn from Selco. No one who was born in this country has the experience and passed-down knowledge he has. Not even people who have been in the military and saw war.
I am lucky that I didn’t have to go through was Selco went through but I’ve heard many of the stories he tells you. I heard stories from the elder who lived through WWI and WWII and I heard stories from people who run away from the civil war in Bosnia. Stories that speak of waking up in the morning to the bodies of your friends and relatives hanging from the trees on the main street. Stories that tell of the young kid going out to pick up firewood who discovered a pile of bodies summarily executed. Stories of a mom and two little kids who lived to see better days just because a bomb (american) failed to detonate just few yard from their house. Stories of people walking tens of miles often with just rugs around their feet to be able to get some food to feed their kids.
For most of those people, the war never became a thing of the past. They had to walk every day by the places who marked some awful event. They were reminded of those terrifying years by the bullets holes that still decorated homes decades later. They were reminded of the sacrifices they had to make by poor health and physical injuries and they were never able to enjoy life to the fullest because they new how easily and fast things can turn the wrong ways. And because the ghosts were still visiting.
People, open your eyes, hears, and mind! Americans have not seen war since the Secession War. Americans think the great depression was hard time. Americans live in their island both literally and figuratively. Be smart; listen to who knows more than you do and try to learn something. Someday you’ll be grateful you did and that day might coming sooner than you think.
God bless you and your family, Selco, and the memory of your great uncle and his friend.
There is so much we can learn from Selco, and so much we take for granted. God bless the USA.
Daisy, a couple days ago I answered a post asking for alternative sites to screwtube . Put REAL.video. The new name is: Brighteon.com. Just read an article on SHTF.com: The New Social Media: Alternatives to fakebook , screwtube . Please allow me to tell you readers about this.
Ca Rebel, the article was originally published here. ????. Thank you!
Relating to the article above, my parents went through WWII roughly in the same area as Bosnia. When I asked them what it was like the answer was either they didn’t want to talk about it, or if you really were there you wouldn’t talk about it (as in wearing it as a badge on your sleeve). Later they opened up a little and mentioned a few events.
When I a small kid and my mother was cooking she would tell me stories since she figured I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and wouldn’t remember (the expression loosely translated she used was “G*d gives the largest cabbage to the dumbest farmer.”, biblically it would be along the story of “The last on line will be served first” and then look at me. If no reaction she would tell a story. Nowadays people have a pet, go a priest or pay good money for a psychologist to talk. But, I digress.) … but through the miracle of epigenetic transgenerational memory a few stories bubbled up.
They ranged from a dry powder the German military used to coagulate burn wounds in a day or two, to meeting Josip Broz ‘Tito’ when he was a tailor and still had a few fingers missing, to meeting the egotistical vertically challenged Field Marshal Montgomery during a visiting photo shoot, carrying an album of newspaper articles about himself, notice in war photos what is under his arm. Somehow you meet the nicest people during war.
Other stories weren’t so good, like an adjacent country visiting army’s cowardice troops walking on females with spiked shoes to what I now assume was the Massacre of Bleiberg http://www.thefullwiki.org/Bleiburg_massacre
http://www.thefullwiki.org/Bleiburg_massacre https://inavukic.com/2012/04/20/bleiburg-massacres-the-shame-of-the-british-army-and-yugoslav-communists// ,to topics covered at https://vexmansthoughts.wordpress.com/ and other web sites. Take note, you’re find it hard to wrap your mind around a lot of topics written about on the web, especially when it comes close to hitting home. As a friend say, during the frenzy of war even good people do things especially during the end payback period.
So, thanks to Selco writing his experiences.
One last memory, during WWII various armies came and went. The Germans, the Italians, the Russians and various fractions Chetniks, etc.. The Germans would ration a few potatoes a month to the people, mainly the children since they were the future generation, the elderly had too many memories. Then when the Germans fell back temporality the Communists filled the vacuum. My mother remembered a Soviet troop entered the house and tried to wash some food in the toilet and somehow flushed it along with the food. He was so angry he machine-gunned the toilet. Luckily not everyone in the house. When the Germans came back, the people were more or less relieved to see them.
As she put it, the difference between the two was, Hitler said he was G*d, Stalin said there was no G*d.
(Misc. notes: Germany was the Fatherland, Russia was the Motherland
Also, for what’s it’s worth, as told to me, during the war if the Germans had a job to do going from point A to point B, don’t get in the way.)
It will be such a delight to see justice being finally served when the elite around the planet — the central bankers, the Bilderbergers etc — are reduced (by their very own hand, how ironic) to having to endure the same sorts of things Selco’s great uncle and his buddies went through. Considering that it is the same elites that caused all the terrible wars in recent history, indeed up to the present, which lesser mortals were obliged to fight.
They’ll sooner be found walking around in their undies scavenging for tree bark than sitting in air-conditioned lounges dressed in Pierre Cardin tuxedos and sipping champagne.