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DDAS, 1999, Serbia, handling
The rest of us kept walking for another five minutes and then we heard a terrible detonation. Somehow, we knew what it was. The sound was different, much louder; sinister, if I can put it that way. We knew that it was [the Victim]. We ran back and the only thing we could see was one blood-stained boot hanging from a tree. And then we realised that he had been blown to pieces. We had to pick each of the pieces up by ourselves; there was nobody else who could do it. The only part of his body that kept some of the human form was upper part of a leg. I will never forget that for as long as I live.’