In the Thick of It.(wartime in Macedonia)

The attack came with little warning. We had just arrived in Selce, an idyllic cluster of red-tile-roofed houses packed tightly on the steep eastern slopes of a river gorge. For the past week this strategically located hamlet high above the Macedonian town of Tetovo had been occupied by ethnic Albanian rebels of the National Liberation Army, and, with two other correspondents, I had set out early that morning on a five-hour trek through the mountains to meet the rebel command. The streets were nearly deserted when we pulled into town, except for a few clusters of civilians who were worriedly discussing the day's deployment of tanks and artillery pieces around Tetovo. Moments later a camouflage-painted Lada screeched to a halt, and four black-bereted insurgents spilled out, retreating without a word into their adjacent headquarters. Suddenly the air seemed to grow deathly still. A handful of villagers, somehow sensing danger, dashed toward a flatbed truck parked beside a wall and squeezed under it. Sandwiched with them inside the narrow crawl space, we had only a few seconds to wonder what the panic was about. Then came the first explosion.

With a deafening crash, the 120-mm tank shell slammed into the ground about 100 meters away from us, shattering windows and rocking the earth. Boys and men hugged one another as they wedged their bodies further beneath the truck, bracing themselves for the next blast. Seconds later we heard a high-pitched whine, and then came the second explosion, this one even closer than the last. Two more shells landed in the space of a minute, each preceded by the same terrifying drone. I wormed myself beneath the truck chassis, just inches from two large fuel tanks. During the next 40 minutes, a dozen more shells slammed into Selce, apparently fired from Macedonian Army positions in Tetovo. Although I'm not a believer, I found myself praying--and cursing the Albanians for not having cellars. The bombardment tailed off as darkness descended, leaving one civilian injured, several houses partially destroyed--and our nerves shattered.

Last week's shelling of Selce and other rebel-held villages provided a frightening glimpse of where Macedonia's war against Albanian rebels may be heading. The government declared a 24-hour ceasefire after the attack and issued an ultimatum to the insurgents to lay down their arms or face a full-scale assault. Intense diplomatic pressure on ethnic Albanian leaders in the region initially raised hopes that the rebels would give up--but those hopes collapsed within a day. On Friday the Macedonians said they had fired on rebel positions across the country's northern border with Kosovo--placing NATO, which occupies the Serb province, even closer to the fighting. Sandbagged police checkpoints and armored personnel carriers now line the highway between Skopje and Tetovo. And as the Army resumed its bombardment of the hills above Tetovo, government spokesman Antonio Milososki vowed: "We will destroy the heart of terrorism."

As a two-day journey into the heart of rebel territory confirmed, the National Liberation Army is spreading rapidly through ethnic Albanian parts of Macedonia. The rebels' demands remain murky. Some want improved opportunities for ethnic Albanians in a united Macedonia, while others seek to merge with Kosovo. Still others want Albanian autonomy within Macedonia. But their call to arms has attracted hundreds of poor and jobless young men. And the government's tactics, including cutting electricity, sealing villages and lobbing tank shells indiscriminately into rebel-held communities, are strengthening civilian solidarity with the NLA and radicalizing the population. Moments after the bombardment in Selce, we took refuge in a nearby coffee shop where village men gathered and shouted imprecations against their attackers. "You know the Slavs," an old man named Azem told me. "They're trying to destroy us."

Selce has borne the brunt of the Macedonian siege. Since the fighters took up arms here last week, the village has been largely cut off from the world, and pro-rebel sentiment is growing throughout the area. Getting into Selce requires a dangerous hike up trails that wind through forest and pastures, some in direct range of Macedonian guns; along the way we passed men and boys on horseback, bringing in food and blankets for the fighters, who are firing back at the Macedonians from a nearby former Turkish fort known as Qale. Electricity and phone service have been cut off for a week, food supplies are running low, and the presence of the rebel command makes the town an inviting military target. Yet Hassan Zelili, Selce's deputy mayor, who owns a grocery store in Tetovo, insisted that nobody in the village was contemplating leaving. ...