H ave there been child heroes inSoutheast Europe in the last twocenturies? Have there been heroes

such young Gavroshe from Victor Hugo’s”Les Miserables“, who became symbols ofuprisings, national and social revolutionsand liberation wars? We shall find such achild on a canvas by Eugene Delacroix(1798-1863) entitled ”Liberty Leading thePeople“ (1830-31). He is charging from thebarricades, armed with two pistols.

The nineteenth and twentieth centurieson the Balkans and Southeast Europeabounded in uprisings against foreign rule,independence wars, national and social rev-olutions and rebellions and local regionalwars. Two world wars were also waged there,costing the lives of millions. And, like it ornot, children took part in them, usually asvictims but sometimes as combatants.

What is surprising is that there are fewtraces of ”child heroism“ in the 19th centu-ry, and it seems that the role of victim, most

frequently anonymous victim, was reservedfor children (and women) in the dramaticevents of those times, at least as far as his-toric memory and tradition is concerned.War and the role of hero, it would seem, werematters for adults, reserved virtually exclu-sively for men.

Therefore, the historic tradition of theSoutheast European nations in the 19thcentury has few examples and few testi-monies of children elevated to the symbolicrole of hero, which does not mean that therewere not many more in reality. In theHungarian revolution of 1848-1849 thereappeared (anonymous) drummer boys, whobeat out the rhythm for the battle ranks ofthe revolutionary army and strode outahead of them. They were continuing thecruel tradition of 18th century Europeanarmies, and particularly from the age of theNapoleonic wars, that numbered smalldrummer boys in their ranks. The legendarystandard-bearers and gunner boys also

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Children Heroes

The cartoon strip”Never Slaves“

in which the main characters wereMirko and Slavko, boy heroes and com-batants in a Partizan unit, was publishedfor over 20 years. It had a large followingand was very popular in Yugoslavia in thesixties and seventies.

At that moment, Slavko aimed...- He’ll get

away! -

- No, we’ll capture him alive! -

But Mirko stopped Slavko’s hand...

belong to the similar tradition of revolu-tionary events.

The twentieth century brought new andeven more terrible wars to the Balkans, warsthat did not spare the civilian population.The Balkan wars led to an increase in boththe suffering and the exodus of the civilianpopulation (that of the Muslim populationafter the First Balkan War and, later, that ofthe Christian population of differentnationalities towards their ”mother coun-tries“).

Children mounted their ownkind of resistance in occupiedSerbia from 1915 to 1918 by sabo-taging the imposed system of for-eign language, writing and school-ing. They also helped the insurrec-tionists that fought the Bulgarianand Austrian occupation troops ineastern and southern Serbia.Cases were recorded of boys beingtaken as prisoners of war togetherwith their soldier fathers and oftheir being held as such until theend of the war or, indeed, all tracehaving been lost of them.Nonetheless, the picture of thechild hero did not come to light inthe First World War in Serbia.

In Romania, the case of MarieZaharia (Mariuca), a nine-year-oldgirl who perished in 1917 helpingRomanian soldiers in the fightagainst the Germans, is wellknown. She was buried in themausoleum in Marasesti togetherwith the fallen combatants. As theonly such example, she hasremained carved into collectivememory and was mentioned intextbooks in the second half ofthe century.

Literature, however, has createdthe characters of child heroes morefor political or propaganda effectthan for the cause of literature.

Totalitarian movements intro-duced the large-scale misuse ofchildren, their organized indoctri-nation, politicization and milita-rization. Children were regarded

as future loyal party and army members. Inthe Second World War, children, as victimsand also as real or imaginary heroes, becameidealized and mythologized to an incompa-rably greater extent. From real charactersthey were quickly transformed into ”modelsfor future generations“, ”ideals“ or ”rolemodels for the future“.

This phenomenon was particularly wide-spread in the region of Yugoslavia in theSecond World War. The Partizan commu-

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Child – ”Anti-hero“

Father and SonOld Amidža was once walking along the roadLike a grey-haired mandarin;Hopping, jumping, running behind himBorn of heroic blood, his youngest son..

A fair was underway. And at the fairSabers, pistols, an Arabian steed,Tunisian caps, silver and gold,Silk from Venice, Geneva clocks.

- Eh, what shall your father buy for you? -He asked the child, seeking his heart’s desire.- A saber, shining, sharp and bright

Or a valiant Arab steed?

Or do you want garments of silk?May you be clad all in silk!Tell me, my son, tell me,Let me buy you buttons of gold.

The child scratched his head,As if he knew not what to choose;- Oh, father, father, buy me, father,Buy me some roasted lamb...

Now the father scratched his head,Looking long at his small son:- I dreamt of sabers sharp and lances long,And my son dreams of roasted lamb!

Djura Jakšić (1832-1878), Serbian poet and painter,representative of Romanticism. He is known for his lyri-cal and patriotic poetry. His poem ”Father and Son“ is anironical portrayal of the ”generation gap“ between theheroic, insurrectionist generation of fathers and theirnon-heroic descendents.

nist units fighting occupying troops andcollaborators also numbered children, most-ly boys, who had a special place in them astrusted couriers or, on account of theirsmall size and ability to pass unnoticed,

were trained and used to blow up fortifiedpositions by means of hand grenades(”bomber boys“).

Their adult fellow combatants treatedthem with great deference as such boys wereperforming deeds that often led to loss oflife. Indeed, those boys competed amongstthemselves as to who would perform thelargest number of suicidal missions andwho would show the greatest defiance in theface of death. That was why they becameheroes during their lifetimes, and death incombat brought them the halo of martyr-dom, having given their lives for freedomand a ”new life“. They were awarded the titleof ”national hero“ posthumously, and talesof their feats were to be found in textbooksand novels for young people, poems andsongs. Many schools, children’s homes, the-atres... throughout the former Yugoslavia

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Taken from a Yugoslav primer

On the HighwayThere are pioneers on the highway too.

They have their shovels too. There’s Spase.He’s loading and Spira’s doing the carry-ing. Paja’s filling in holes and Puniša’s lev-eling. Petar was the one who filled in themost holes and did the most leveling thismorning.

The work’s over. The Pioneers are carry-ing their shovels and singing: ”We are Tito’spioneers.“

Heroes of the reconstruction

were named after them. This virtually mythical image of the

valiant little „bomber boy“ or courier waspart of the official ideological cult of theYugoslav Partizans’ anti-fascist struggle. Itwas popularized in different ways, and themany films made about the Partizans afterthe war almost always contained the charac-ter of a boy hero, at least in the form of acameo role. They were the main heroes instrip cartoons targeting children and youngpeople.

The central and best know figure in thiscult of the boy hero was Boško Buha, whohad fled in the face of Croatian fascist(Ustasha) terror and reached Serbia with hisfather as a refugee in 1941, whereupon hejoined the Partizans. When he died at theage of seventeen in 1943, he had already wongreat fame as a fearless ”bomber boy“.

As part of the propaganda machinery,stories about child heroes that fought togeth-er with Partizans were also used in a similarway in Bulgaria (Mitko Palauzov fromGabrovo, Kalitko the Shepherd, Vassil andSava Kokareshkov from Belitza).

During the uprising against Soviet troopsin Hungary in 1956, young boys threwMolotov cocktails at Soviet tanks in suicidalattacks on the streets of Budapest.

In the period from 1945 to 1990, it wasnot advisable, and indeed not possible, topose the question of the moral justificationof such wartime misuse of children and thesacrifice of their lives, regardless of theobjectives.

M.R.

The LegendaryBomber Boy

After wandering for days, Boško Buhareached liberated territory. He finally foundhimself among the Partizans of the SecondProletarian Brigade. He told them of every-thing that had happened to him and how hehad lost his father. They received him as oneof their own and tried to be like parents tohim.

At the beginning they did not immediate-ly give the boy any weapons. They did not lethim go into action, either. The boy objected,saying that ”he was just as good a fighter asthe others“, but to no avail...

But Boško went into action for the firsttime in secret. Thecommander wasnot to know.

Finally the mem-bers of the brigadegave in. They gavethe boy a gun. Buthe preferredgrenades. He trust-ed grenades themost. He carriedthem in clustersaround his bodylike ripe grapes...

The Second Proletarian Brigade was eter-nally on the move. It was constantly fightingGermans, Ustasha and Chetniks.

An Ustasha machine gun was firing mer-cilessly from a bunker. It had already cutmen down. No one could get near it; no onecould blow it up; no one could silence it.

Finally, little Boško Buha approached thebunker. Silently. Cautiously. Taking care noone should notice him. He removed the safe-ty device and threw the bomb. One, two... amighty explosion... Tremendous. The youngboy jumped into the smoke-filled bunkerafter the bomb.

The other combatants held their breath.No one managed to say a word, to warnhim... it was all over in a matter of seconds.

Gunfire was heard from the bunker.With fear in their hearts, the Partizans

continued to watch the bunker into which

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● 8.1. Which children have been consid-ered heroes in the history of your country?How did they become heroes? Are thereany anti-heroes?● 8.2. Which values or political ideas aresymbolized by the examples of the childheroes in the book and those you knowfrom your countries?

QQ uu ee ss tt ii oo nn

Boško Buha

the little bomber boy had disappeared...They feared for the life of their little friend...

A little later, the boy appeared with a bigpistol in his hands. He had taken it from adead Ustasha. He waved to the Partizansbehind him, urging them forward.

- There’s no one here any more, he said.We can pass freely.

While his fellow fighters passed, the boylooked at the Ustasha bunker that he hadjust taken with his grenades.

By day, when the brigade was resting in avillage after an action or exhausting march,Boško would seek out the village childrenand play with them. And the children wouldgather around him, staring at his uniform,at the bombs in his belt and his gun. Theyenvied him.

- What are you looking at me like thatfor? - Boško would often ask his littlefriends. - You can be like me.

- How? - One boy asked him once.- Easily. Come with me and join the

Partizans.- And will the comrades give me every-

thing that they’ve given you?- Yes, they gave me everything...And the boys often went off with Boško.

The mothers and fathers would have greattrouble bringing them home.

The First Anti-Fascist Congress of theYouth of Yugoslavia was being held in Bihać.Delegates had arrived from all over thecountry. Comrade Tito was also there. Hewas following the work of the Congress.

Boško Buha, the leader of the bomber boysection of the Second Proletarian Brigade,took the floor. He was so small that hecould barely be seen over the rostrum...

A whisper went around the hall: ”BoškoBuha“. Loud applause broke out.

He then told them how the bomber boysof the Second Proletarian Brigade werefighting against the Ustasha, how they wereeliminating their bunkers. He told themthat the bomber boys had once climbed onto the roof of a house and thrown grenadesdown the chimney on to the Ustasha inside.

Indescribable delight reigned in the hall.Another lengthy applause rang out. The lit-tle bomber boy descended from the dais.Comrade Tito stood up to congratulate the

battle-tested fighter. He removed his watchand gave it to the boy. Boško was embar-rassed.

- Thank-you, Comrade Tito - he barelymuttered, overcome with joy.

Aleksa Mikić Small Stories about Great Children

Sarajevo: Svjetlost, 1957

FatelessDuring the four years at school I did not

hear a single word about this place. (...) Thedisadvantage was that i had to learn here onmy own that we were in a ”concentrationcamp“, a Konzentrationslager. Even theseplaces weren’t all the same, I was informed.This concentration camp, for example, was aVernichtungslager, that is, an ”annihilationcamp.“ An Arbeitslager, ”labor camp“, wasan entirely different place: there life waseasy; the circumstances and the food, theysaid, were not comparable, which is natural,

because, after all, that camp’s purpose wasdifferent. We were supposed to go to such aplace, provided nothing happened to pre-vent us; this, several people admitted, couldconceivably happen. At any rate, we werewarned that it was not advisable to report insick, since the camp hospital was at the footof one of the chimneys, called by tec initiat-ed by the abbreviated name „Number 2.“ Weran the greatest danger with water, unboiledwater, that is, like the water I had drunk onthe way from the station to the baths butafter all I couldn’t have known this.Admittedly there had been a sign. I can’t

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● Compare the child heroes from the bookwith examples from your own country. Arethere any similarities and differences in thevalues as represented by the child heroes?● Take your pupils to visit memorials inyour town – analyze the value systems theyrepresent. Have those systems changedover the passage of time?

RR ee cc oo mm mm ee nn dd aa tt ii oo nn

deny that, but still, I thought, the soldiershould have said something to me. But wait, Isaid to myself. I should look at the funda-mental purpose of the camp, shouldn’t I?Still, fortunately, I felt fine, and I didn’t hearany complaints from the other boys either.

(...)I was quite hungry, but as it happened, one

piece of bread was to be our whole supper,and I had eaten that already in the morning.We then found our barracks. The „block“ was

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LAJOS PÓSA

The Young CannoneerUpon the vast battle fieldflowers of blood are springingand in every soldier’s heartstars of fire are twinkling.

Heaven and earth are both shakenby cannons’ roar and swords’ rattlethe ground is getting covered bythe bloodflowers of wild battle.

A young child of a cannoneeris taking aim so ardent- the missile’s like a fireboltand hits the foe’s lines hardest.

The enemy is firing backwith fierce shells like lightning,and the ardent young soldieris on the ground now dying.

The captain’s kind and mercifulto wipe the blood from his face,while the boy is dying therein his captain’s embrace.

‘Have I hit them, tell me, sir -’he can hardly whisper,‘Ten Germans fell in the dustwhen your shelling hit there.’

‘Please, sir, let my mother knowshall my life here end,that I’ve been a good son to herand my fatherland.

He is dying with these words,with a smile on his face.The captain’s crying, holding himstill tight in his embrace.

(in Hazafias versek. Signer és Wolfner é.n., Hungary p, 18.)

A little drummer boy, Hungary

entirely bare on the inside; it was a roomwithout any furniture and even withoutlights, with concrete f loors where thenight’s rest had to be arranged the same wayas it was in the horse stables at the barracks.I leaned my back against the legs of a boybehind me and supported the back of theboy in front of me with my knees. Since Iwas tired after all these new experiences andimpressions, I quickly fell asleep.

Imre Kertész, Fateless, Hungary

Dear Children!Little Hungarians!

I’m searching for words wishing to riptheir old robes off, because I speak to You!

Wash yourselves, clarify yourselves yeHungarian words in the splendour of mag-

nificent October! Our language, purifyyourself from filth and squalor, sound withthe ring of dulcimers, sound with the ring ofzithers, echo the words of our grandfathersand great-grandfathers!

Sound, ye refreshed, purified Hungarianwords about those who stood on guardtogether with their valiant fathers! You,valiant sons, valiant children whose heroicdeeds are marvelled by the world. Our LittleDavids, your names gleam together withthose of old-time heroes, warriors of ourgreat Prince Rákóczi! Only their feats can becompared to yours! Valiant sons of the 1848revolution, heroes of the battle of Piski,Bem’s, Damjanich’s redcaps smile down atyou!

Little heroes fighting side by side withtheir fathers. East and west, north and southspeaks about you. Miraculous legendsspread, new sagas are born about your feats!

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Prototype of child hero, Second World War

The heroic epic of our century has beenwritten in your blood!

We do not know your names yet, littleBotonds. Yet we pledge vow to keep yourmemory alive forever and ever!

As long as Hungarians live on this Earth,we shall relate your feats! We promise torecord all the heroic deeds of the gloriousdays and write a chronicle worthy of you.

To fulfil our vow, our magazine, yourfathers and grandfathers read and liked,now starts again. These heroic days haveopened the door for MY MAGAZINE, too.We, editors promise that we never everdesert you, Hungarian children! Sweet fairy-tales and heroic sagas about Hungarianheroes of old and new will resound in thesecolumns! Poems will be born, together withthe springs, streams and rivers of Hungariantales, legends. You’ll drink of these refresh-ing springs, feel how you’re rejuvenated andbecome true Hungarian patriots!

We beg you to help us. Please, recordeverything you’ve got to know about the glo-rious days!

Little Hungarians! Let us join our hands,we take care of you, we never let you down,nobody will ever tear us apart!

István KomjáthyMy Magazine, Children’s literary weekly,

Hungary, 31 October 1956.

Once upon a Time...

Once upon a time, there was a...Children, it is so difficult to tell a fairy

tale now. It is so difficult to tell tales aboutdwarfs or giants. I wish I could tell a taleabout Big John, not just John but Johnny,Louis, Alex and Steve! Big Johns are amongyou and your brave friends! How could a boyof ten or fourteen uproot trees or tamebears...?

I wish I could tell you about this, but it isso difficult to tell a tale about what’s hap-pened here in the beautiful capital city ofour country under your very eyes. Louis,Alex, Steve and Johnny had rattlingmachine-guns in their hands. They who

used to be pioneers and got fed up with allthe lies at the troop meeting, now jumped atrumbling, squeaking tanks with petrol bot-tles in hand.

We have uprooted the trees of lies and themonsters of slavery were blown up intonothing...

”What will become of our children?“ par-ents kept worrying about your future. Andsee the miracle: you have fought the battle,guarded the shop-windows (so that thepurity of our sacred revolution is notstained!) you have carried bread to the sick,carried the wounded to hospital. The battleof grownups is your battle, too. There wasno need of pretentious, hypocritical troop-meetings – you knew your duty at once, youknew where to go and what to do.

We owe a debt of respect and gratitude forthose who shed their blood and gave theirlife for us!

Our battle is not over yet!You must learn the lesson of our revolu-

tion for life!When weekdays are back, you must go

back to learn, to play. Learn and work hard.Learn a lot, learn the truth, learn with thetrue Hungarian spirit!

If you do, then sweet storytelling mightstart again one day...Once upon a time...

Uncle Miklós, Hungary

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