We wake at sunrise and sip coffee as we listen to the dawn chorus. On the river bank, a little bird with a red crown skitters amongst the bushes.  A raven hops from a floating tree trunk and debris in search of food. A young boy, kicks stones in to the river. Its the same boy we spotted yesterday on the outskirts of the town. Living with his grandfather in the remains of what we assume is a shell of their former home. He must be all of 10 years old, but life experience and living rough have matured him rather quickly.

The plains of Slavonia form the richest agricultural parts of Croatia, with seemingly endless corn and sunflower fields fanning out from every town, village and hamlet. A unusual collection of populars, conifers and fir trees rise high in the distance. Our road winds around and soon we are facing the entrance of the tree lined park. We turn off and see the signs, the memorial gardens.

Locals and gardeners tend to the immaculate gardens. During the siege, locals were captured, bundled into trucks and driven away to be murdered.  Their resting place, a mass grave here, near the village of Ovčara. About two thousand Croatian soldiers and civilians died in the defence of Vukovar, and those listed as missing still run into the hundreds.  The dead lie in gardens, as if in a state of Eden like, prelapsarian innocence, as far away as could be imagined from war and suffering. Named and unnamed graves surround an eternal flame inside a large cube of crosses.

A few miles down the road we follow the sign Ovčara. Through farm land and fields of wheat and hay stands the memorial centre. A series of storage hangers, were they kept Croat prisoners on route to Serbian work camps. In 1991, 261 men, women and children were executed. 

Hanger Doors

Inside the eerie hanger, dark protective walls, the photos of the dead fade in and out of view. Unaccompanied by details of rank or regiment just a handful of scattered belongings on the floor.  A floor of uneven bullets cause you to walk with caution. And an eternal flame in the centre of the room provides a touch of light in the black and cold room. It is simple, powerful and completely different from the cemeteries we saw earlier. 

Floor of bullets

Outside a plaque, the Croatian flag fly’s high in memory of the victims. 

The village of Ilok is only 25 kilometres away and our final place in Croatia before we head over to Serbia. Unlike Vukovar the village suffered less damage as the residents were given the opportunity to leave. It is exceptionally pretty, with narrow streets and traditional Croatian houses built of brick beneath slate roofs. The historical old town is rather pleasant with open space and stalls selling local produce. The Odescalchi manor is now the town museum and public office. To the side a rather atmospheric restaurant and winery.At the far end stands St Ivan’s monastery and church set amongst the fort walls and village green.  It was locked but thanks to an official visit of some foreign diplomats, we managed to tag on and sneak in.

Perched high above the Danube the views from the 13th century fortress are stunning. The well known lush vineyards known for their robust wine production surround the low lands. All around are the green hills that for centuries kept the Turks out. We gathered from the size of the car parks that this is a popular spot with tourist, but there was hardly anyone about today. 

Craig spots the perfect secluded camping spot right at the side of the river.  Within minutes we’d relocated, parked up and settled in.  Craig tried his hand at fishing but called it quits when the snakes appeared. Mac n Tosh roamed free darting between the two of us.

I spent a couple of hours reading, mostly sitting on a bench by the river. Absorbed by scenery, river boats and birdsongs.It was impossible to imagine in any sensible way that this perpetually tranquil place had, within my lifetime, been the epicentre, more or less, of the Homeland War.

Our Bumble wild camping spot Ilok N045.229989, E019.379563