Testimonials

INTRODUCTION 

Mamula is a small reef islet located at the entrance to Boka Bay, positioned between Capes Oštro and Arza. It is closer to Luštica than Kobila and lies approximately 1 km from the mainland (42°24'N, 18°34'E). The island is uninhabited, with sparse vegetation. Commonly referred to as Velika Žanjica, in contrast to Mala Žanjica, which is situated on the far western coast of the Luštica peninsula and retains its original name, the bay housing the port of Žanjice takes its name from the islet. On older maps from the late 17th century, Mamula is identified as Rondoni. The island was renamed after General Lazar Mamula, a governor of Dalmatia originally from Lika, who constructed a fortress on the islet around 1850. Subsequently, Mamula became the Austro-Hungarian Empire's most significant strategic asset in this section of the Adriatic and a notable target for Allied (French and British) fleets during the First World War. It was an important fortress as part of a broader fortification system in Boka Bay. However, at the same time, it served as a prison during the First World War for 31 patriots, who were held captive as hostages. (Ignjat Zloković, Mirko Komnenović, "Boka" 13-14, Proceedings, Herceg-Novi). 

CAMP FORMATION 

In early 1942, after the prisons in Boka had reached capacity, the Italian occupiers established concentration camps in the Mamula Fortress and on Prevlaka. Until then, Mamula had not been used for military purposes, whereas Prevlaka had stationed troops. The 6th Army Corps Command, by Order No. 1297 on 30 March 1942, notified all divisions and the Carabinieri command that concentration camps had been set up at Mamula and Prevlaka.

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On 27 April 1942, under document no. 1354/1, the command of the 6th Corps issued instructions to all subordinate units regarding the internal organisation of the camps. Notably, the directive explicitly emphasises that no one may be sent to these camps without the knowledge and approval of the prefect of Kotor. 

Later, on 29 May 1942, the 6th Army Corps instructed subordinate units to intern only men who were expected to remain permanently in the Mamula zone, and to transfer all others for whom internment was temporary, as well as women, to Prevlaka. Mamula camp fell under the jurisdiction of the "Emilia" Division, while Prevlaka was overseen by the "Messina" Division (Dušan Živković, Boka Bay and Paštrovići in the People’s Liberation Struggle, p. 214). 

From the establishment of Mamula camp until mid-summer of 1942, it held women, children and men. Later, the women and children were relocated to Prevlaka, only for a larger group of women to be briefly returned to Mamula in the spring of 1943, where they remained for two to three months. 

After the Orjen Partisan Battalion disbanded and the Partisan forces withdrew from Herzegovina, captured fighters from the Orjen Battalion, sympathisers, and active People’s Liberation Movement participants from Herzegovina, Konavle, Dalmatia, and areas like Dubrovnik and the Cetinje prison, were brought to the camp in late May. 

REGIME IN THE CAMP 

The camp was divided into three sections: the right wing, the left wing, and the citadel. The right wing housed prisoners from Boka, the left wing held civilians from Herzegovina, and the citadel primarily contained fighters from the Orjen Partisan Battalion who were awaiting trial. The number of inmates varied constantly, ranging from 400 to 650 as it fluctuated with arrivals and departures. 

Camp inmates "lived" in vaulted cells with thick walls where cannons from the former Austro-Hungarian fortress were once housed. Initially, when there were fewer inmates, they slept on the concrete floor, but as the camp became crowded, wooden bunks were installed, one above the other, equipped with straw mats and two military blankets each. In these stifling, unhygienic, and overcrowded cells, the bunks were aligned along the walls, creating a narrow passage down the centre. In one corner, usually by the door, gasoline barrels served as makeshift toilets. 

In cells without proper ventilation and with only one or two small windows, as many as 100 people were packed in, depending on the cell’s size (each cell measured approximately 60-70 square metres). 

The Mamula garrison consisted of a military unit (company-sized) and a platoon of Carabinieri. The military provided camp security but had no direct contact with the prisoners, while the Carabinieri handled internal duties. Soldiers guarded the walls and the camp entrance. 

The Carabinieri had full authority over the prisoners and could punish inmates at their discretion, confining them to solitary cells, slapping, or otherwise mistreating them. 

Life in the camp followed a strict routine: getting up, going outside for a walk, washing, and sparse meals. Food included breakfast, typically a substitute for unsweetened coffee served in a portion cap; lunch, a thin soup with only 10 to 30 grains of rice and occasionally a small piece of horse meat or some macaroni (šupiote); and for dinner, 5 dkg of Parmesan cheese and 12 dkg of bread for the entire day. 

There were water wells on the camp’s plateau as well as in the citadel. Inmates were permitted to wash clothes by the well on the plateau and were provided with a substance that was supposed to be soap. Inside the camp, a bakery was staffed by inmates, and in the citadel, there were a canteen, solitary confinement cells, a clinic, and a forge, all where prisoners worked and earned small amounts of extra food. This area’s first floor housed quarters for the military, the carabinieri, and camp offices.  

As previously mentioned, the prisoners were separated into different sections. Contact between inmates from the two parts was strictly prohibited, and any attempt at communication was punished. This significantly complicated life for comrades from Herzegovina and Dalmatia, with whom we had very limited interaction. 

The diet, as evident from the listed rations, was insufficient. However, the food parcels we received every 15 days from parents or friends helped to ease hunger, made life in the camp more tolerable, and enabled us to endure the hardships while preserving our health. 

Packages were delivered fairly consistently by motorboat. The only delay occurred occasionally in winter when rough seas prevented the boat from docking at the small, storm-exposed pier. During these times, we would watch the sea from the window, waiting for the wind to shift, hoping to see the package boat arriving from the direction of Herceg-Novi. 

The camp inmates did not perform heavy physical labour, except in rare instances, such as unloading firewood for the bakery, which arrived by barge.

While the camp conditions remained largely unchanged until the fall of fascism in Italy, the level of severity fluctuated, depending on the camp commanders and the state of the frontlines. Strictness was especially intense during the disbandment of the Orjen Battalion, marked by the arrival of numerous fighters, frequent interrogations, executions, and uncertainty for many comrades. During this time, camp authorities often shuffled inmates between cells and from one section of the camp to another until stability returned. The atmosphere undoubtedly reflected the external situation, and the regime became more lenient once many executions, trials, and interrogations had concluded, and when the state of the frontlines signalled a turning point. The mood of the camp authorities served as the best indicator of the war’s unpredictable fortunes. However, all the commanders sought to influence the inmates’ beliefs, feeding them misinformation, attempting to weaken morale, and painting a hopeless picture. One particularly persistent carabinieri, a former friar, would deliver lengthy speeches extolling fascism, futilely trying to provoke inmates into discussions. Early on, these “educational” sessions were held regularly with great determination. However, they later abandoned the practice when they realised it was futile and as the tide of the war turned against them (these speeches were translated by Comrade Manojlo Manojlović). Attempts were also made to treat inmates from Boka as Italians: they were forbidden to speak their native language, and intellectuals were offered scholarships to study in Italy. One day, students who were fighters from the Orjen Battalion and awaiting trial were summoned one by one and advised to write to the Duce, expressing remorse for having been "rebels" and requesting permission to continue their education in Italy. Without prior agreement, all of them refused. I recall that Krsto Branković, Mihajlo Mustur, Mladen Grakalić, and likely a few other comrades were among those called. 

During food distribution or assemblies, inmates were forced to give a fascist salute, and food would not be distributed until the guards were satisfied. This ceremony often dragged on, with the reluctant salutes angering the guards, who hurled insults and compared us to colonial natives, a favourite slur. Waiting for food distribution was particularly gruelling during summer, as the inmates, weakened and exposed to the scorching sun, struggled to remain standing. 

We were allowed outside the cells three times daily—in the morning, at noon, and in the evening—for an hour each time. During these intervals, we attended to basic needs, such as washing, using the collective toilet, and taking a brief walk. In the evenings, when the cells were locked, quiet conversations would take place. Voices could not be raised, as even the slightest noise would prompt soldiers to loudly demand silence, threatening us with their weapons. On one occasion, they carried out this threat, wounding three Herzegovinians in a cell where someone had struck a match (as recounted by Grujo Andrić). 

On the left side of the camp, as previously noted, were comrades from Herzegovina and Dalmatia. Although the general regime was the same, their daily schedules for eating, rising, and going outside were staggered from the rest of the camp, making contact between the two groups impossible. Their conditions were significantly harsher, which will be detailed further.

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A large number of fighters were brought before the Court and sentenced to death (though for most, this sentence was later commuted to life imprisonment). Yet even then, the “Orjen fighters” sang songs of freedom that resonated through the prison cells and courtroom halls. Mamula’s spirit thrived on these acts of heroism, keeping the spirit of Orjen alive. 

Life on Mamula, despite the constant struggle to preserve bare existence, was enriched by both political activities and other pursuits. There was ample time to read a few smuggled books, play chess or card games. Among the contraband materials were the complete works of Chekhov (brought by Boško Drobnjak), several works by Balzac, and others. Some prisoners took the opportunity to learn Italian and mastered it well. The camp housed individuals from various professions, with extensive life experience and diverse education. Frequent discussions were held on a wide range of topics, spanning numerous fields of interest. 

PARTY AND SKOJ (League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia)

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At the end of this chapter, I would like to say more about Dr Stevo Mrđen (previously mentioned in passing), not as a prisoner who exhibited commendable patriotic conduct, shared his generous parcels, and contributed to the unity among inmates—qualities that would not make him an exception. Rather, I wish to highlight him as the sole physician among the prisoners on Mamula. 

Dr. Stevo Mrđen was respected even by the Italians, who sometimes came to him for advice, despite having their own military doctor. His authority greatly benefited the prisoners, allowing him to assist both as a person and as a physician. He was prepared to put his knowledge at the service of party politics, Dr. Mrđen closely monitored the health of the prisoners and, despite scarce resources, provided invaluable aid to many. With limited medicines, he would often send inmates to the Meljine hospital to recuperate, sometimes fabricating an illness, understanding that their true affliction was fatigue and exhaustion. Though their stay at Meljine was brief—something beyond Dr. Mrđen’s control—he frequently engaged in loud, clever arguments with young and inexperienced Italian doctors to secure treatment for someone. He regularly conducted medical examinations, performed minor operations, administered calcium injections and other strengthening medications, and tirelessly advocated for better healthcare in the camp. When, under Party orders, Vlado Bijelić needed to deliver a message to Petar Ćebić at the Meljine hospital, who would then pass it on to Luka Matković, Dr. Mrđen ensured that Vlado was declared ill and arranged his transfer to Meljine, where he stayed for a while. There, Dr. Mrđen demonstrated proven courage, persistently negotiating until he succeeded. He was so convincing that he persuaded not only the Italians but also Dr. Feller, an educated and cultured but unreliable prisoner doctor. The Italians ultimately conceded, though only briefly, as further examinations, including an X-ray at Meljine, determined it was not a special illness. Nonetheless, the prisoner would return to camp with news, packages, and messages. Dr. Stevo Mrđen managed all this in his own unique way, skillfully dispelling Italian suspicions and earning their trust. They would even invite him to examine them or visit his cell for advice. On one occasion, the camp commander himself came to Dr. Mrđen’s cell for an examination. 

Such was Dr. Stevo Mrđen, our camp doctor, who provided countless prisoners with care and compassion within the confines of Mamula. 

ESCAPE FROM MAMULA 

The fall of fascism in Italy was met with great enthusiasm among us. There was a sense of confusion among the soldiers, though many openly expressed their desire for the war to end quickly and often talked about their longing to return home, realising the war was lost. In the evenings, we could hear the guards on Mamula’s walls singing songs that conveyed their homesickness and yearning for loved ones. They were no longer soldiers in spirit but rather individuals who felt deceived and brought to a foreign land. They tried to befriend us and shared information about what was happening outside. Nevertheless, captivity and camp life did not end, although life in the camp became somewhat easier and more tolerable, as prisoners were allowed outside their cells all day, with cells locked only at night. This greater freedom allowed the Party organisation to operate more smoothly and prepare for what was to come. During this time, the collective functioned flawlessly, and there was talk of organising the inmates into companies, creating a military structure that could respond in a united and organised way at the decisive moment. Soon, inmates were grouped into companies, each led by seasoned fighters from the Orjen Battalion, with Jugole Grakalić appointed as commander. 

However, organisation was the easy part. All the fighters and allies of the movement were there, united in thought and action from the first day, with everyone eager to seize freedom as soon as possible. Lengthy discussions ensued about how to escape from Mamula, with ideas on cutting off the telephone lines and underwater cable—the camp’s only link to the mainland. There was also talk of an individual escape attempt. Krsto Vranković, an early resistance fighter and skilled swimmer, volunteered. The idea was for him to be taken out in the kibla (portable toilet bucket) beyond the camp walls, where he would wait until nightfall to swim to Luštica. However, this plan was abandoned because he couldn’t fit inside the kibla. Though this idea was dismissed, the determination to find a way out remained. The new plan was to construct rafts from bed frames to cross over to Luštica. Measures were also taken to ensure that prisoners would not be locked in their cells if action was needed. Comrade Dušan Novaković, who worked in the forge, crafted makeshift cell keys for each cell so they could be opened during the night if the situation demanded it. 

Impatience grew, and pressure mounted on the Italians to release the prisoners from the camp. Delegations were sent to negotiate with the camp administration, including Erih Koš, Đorđe Doklestić, and Miloš Bakočević. The party organisation backed these negotiations. Surprised, the commander of Mamula responded with a hesitant, “Vederemo” (“We will see”). He delayed any decisive action, likely shaken by the unfolding events and perhaps lacking clear orders from higher command. Yet, irritated by the inmates' audacity, the commander burst out in frustration during one tense moment, asking, “Well, who is the commander here?” Jugole replied, “Me.” Stunned, the commander weakly waved his hand, defeated (as Miloš Bakočević recalls). In this atmosphere of tension, impatience, rumours, the arrival of new prisoners, and an overall sense of collapse, the fall of Italy was met with celebration by the inmates, who repeatedly pressed the Italian guards to open the camp gates. Meanwhile, external pressure increased through negotiations by partisan representatives with Italian officials, as well as by parents and other citizens advocating for the prisoners’ release. This pressure intensified when news arrived that the Germans had entered Boka, occupying Kobila, Prevlaka, and Oštra—a small German advance likely from the Dubrovnik direction. It was firmly decided that no one would wait for the Germans in the camp. The situation became highly uncertain. The Italians still held Mamula, the Arza fortress, and parts of Boka, yet Italian forces were cooperating with the Germans at Prevlaka and Oštra. Eventually, the Germans disarmed the Italians there and imprisoned them alongside the detainees on Prevlaka, leading to an armed conflict between Italians and Germans. 

An artillery duel erupted across from Mamula, as German forces on Oštra exchanged fire with Italians on Arza. All day, shells tore through the sky over Mamula. A small war had broken out between yesterday’s allies.

The Italians on Mamula watched this conflict in fear, demoralised and unable to control the camp. Amidst this psychological turmoil, the commander announced to the inmates that they could leave the camp. Whether this decision was backed by official orders or not remains unclear, but the Italians, eager to rid themselves of the camp, wanted to leave as quickly as possible and move to safety. Their own fate was uncertain, especially as the Germans were now at Mamula’s doorstep. Only the carabinieri struggled to accept the reality of surrender; they had once embodied the Italian army’s “cultural mission,” disregarding the inmates' aspirations. Yet in the end, they too fled the island, as if it were a haunted place.

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Everyone’s priority was to free the inmates as quickly as possible. Soon, the boat *Hvala bogu*, owned by the Botica family, appeared in front of Mamula. Throughout the day, a boat piloted by Mirko Đurašković and Vido Cvjetković transported around 300 inmates to the Luštica peninsula. Alongside the prisoners, who included Bokelians and Herzegovinians, the Italians were also evacuated. During this time, the artillery duel continued, with several shells fired from Kobila towards the boat, though none caused damage. The boat made continuous trips, ferrying those desperate for freedom. Tragically, near the threshold of freedom, Jovo Lučić, a lawyer from Sutorina, passed away, exhausted from the ordeal. Many Italian soldiers were disarmed upon arrival at Luštica, including the camp commander, who surrendered his weapon to Radomir Vukšić.

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Around 2,000 prisoners passed through the Mamula camp over the course of two years. Many were transferred to other camps in Italy, but all of them, as well as those who remained on Mamula, hurried to join the Partisan units after Italy’s capitulation. They filled the ranks of Montenegrin, Dalmatian, Croatian, and Slovenian brigades, with many ultimately giving their lives for the freedom of their homeland. 

Note: In writing this account of Mamula, I drew on the recollections of Luka Tomanović, Mladen Grkalić, Božo Andrić, Grujo Andrić, and Vlado Bijelić. However, this work does not aim to present a complete picture of the Mamula camp. A fuller and more objective view could be achieved through the memories of other comrades.

MARXIST CENTRES AND FUNDS FOR PRESERVING AND PROMOTING THE REVOLUTIONARY TRADITIONS OF THE PEOPLE’S LIBERATION STRUGGLE FOR THE MUNICIPALITIES OF HERCEG NOVI, TIVAT, AND KOTOR

THE PEOPLE’S LIBERATION WAR AND REVOLUTION IN BOKA BAY

During the temporary crisis from April 1942 to September 1943

(Proceedings from the Round Table held in Risan on 20 January 1984)

Kotor, 1986.

In my article, I addressed the topic of the Kotor prison and the Mamula camp. I aim to explain some of my perspectives and share what I experienced as a nineteen-year-old, memories that remain vivid to this day. This is what I saw and endured over the course of a year.

I was arrested on 4 April 1942 by the Carabinieri in Tivat. After that, I spent nine days in Škaljari, under the authority of the infamous "Black Knight," notorious for his cruelty, and was subsequently transferred to the prison in Kotor. 

One night, the detainees were called out twice, their destinations unknown. A list of names was read before midnight, followed by another later. After that, it was easy to guess what lay ahead for us—there was a stir throughout the prison as people began preparing to leave. Partisan songs filled the air. I remember the songs "Mitrovčanka" and "Bilećanka" breaking out; the whole place came alive with singing. Bottles we had in the cells, used for water, were thrown out of the windows, landing in the street below where Italian guards and soldiers were patrolling. 

I remember an old Italian prison guard who went from cell to cell, pleading:

 “Don’t sing Bolshevik songs!” He knew exactly what was being sung, but he was powerless to stop it. 

It was only the beginning of April when eighty to ninety of us prisoners were lined up early one morning in front of the Kotor prison. Before that, they handcuffed us. We were led through the upper part of the city, past Benovo, toward the Kotor waterfront, where an Italian ship was docked. Based on this, we thought we were being taken to Italy. However, next to the ship was a tugboat—a diving tender. I recognised it from my time working at the Naval Arsenal, as it was used to transport employees. It had a single room into which all of us were to be packed.

Boarding under normal circumstances would not have been an issue. However, for us, bound as we were, it was extremely difficult and harrowing.

Some had larger wrists, some smaller. Some were handcuffed tightly, others loosely. Normally, only one person could descend the narrow stairs at a time, but here, two of us were forced to go down together. It was gruelling; bones creaked under the strain.

After a long while, we finally settled in. Perhaps an hour or two passed, and we began to wonder where they were taking us. The ship was moving, but we had no idea where we would disembark.

The uncertainty was overwhelming. Then, we saw Herceg-Novi come into view. After about two hours, the tug arrived at the rocky shore of Mamula. There was no proper dock, only a makeshift mooring spot.

Disembarkation began, and we still didn’t know what awaited us. Women and children were sent to Prevlaka. We received empty straw bags from the camp authorities, which we filled with some dirty straw. Then we were placed in cells, forty inmates per cell, or eighty if two cells were joined by an open wall. The floors were damp, and we lay on straw beds that barely had enough straw.

Sometime later, before I left, we were given wooden bunks. Life began to follow the regulations set by the camp authorities.

It was, in fact, fascist terror. The food was extremely poor—barely enough to survive. In the mornings, we were given some kind of pâté along with a slop that was supposed to be coffee. Around ten o'clock, we were allegedly given 12 decagrams of bread. However, it was significantly less than that, I can guarantee. In the evenings, we received a slice of cheese and a couple of foul-smelling Greek olives. Lunch had its own peculiar protocol.

The Carabinieri would open all the cells, and we would file out to form ranks of four. We had to wait outside in this long column for hours until it was our turn to receive food. Then came the ritual. After the command “Attenzione!”, to which we had to stand at attention, the shout “Eviva Re!” followed, and then the mandatory “Eviva Duce!” We were forced to repeat these phrases, though most of us barely mumbled them after the Italian officer. This process would be repeated several times until they relented and began distributing lunch. When we finally received the watery soup, we sat down like children, holding our portions in our laps, counting the number of “šupiote“ (macaroni) in our bowls. Anyone with more than ten macaroni was considered very lucky. For a time, this became a peculiar pastime.

Soon after arriving at Mamula, the Italians divided the camp into two sections: the left and right wings, which they called “a la destra” and “a la sinistra.” Our side, which included Bokelians and other inmates from territories annexed by Italy, was required to speak Italian when addressing camp authorities. The occupiers justified this by claiming that we were now part of Italian territory. Anyone who spoke in our native language would be warned. Those from non-annexed areas, however, were allowed to address the guards with the help of an interpreter. However, in our case this was not allowed.

The standard of living for the Bokelians on Mamula was better than for the other inmates, mainly because we were able to receive parcels from home. However, it should be noted that not everyone received food parcels.

There were also Bokelians who were destitute and starving. This gave rise to the idea of forming collectives, which reshaped relationships among the camp inmates. From then on, everything received was shared within each collective, usually in equal parts as agreed. It is a well-documented fact, often emphasised in various accounts, including here, that anyone receiving a package was never considered its sole owner.

I remember Ivan Kaloza from Tivat, originally from Istria, who already had experience in organising camp life. Here as well, he was a strong supporter of the collective structure. I was very young at the time, so my impressions may partly reflect my youth and perspective in those years. Nevertheless, I know that the Communist Party was also active among the inmates.

I remember that meetings were held. I also recall the names of a few communists: Petar Vrbica, Đorđe Vukasović Baro, and Gajo Vrbica. They would meet in one of the camp’s corners. Although I was not a communist and did not participate, I knew the Party was active.

Thanks to Dr. Mrđen, who was a physician, a group of Bokelians managed, on the pretext of illness, to receive additional rations. However, this extra food did not only go to those for whom it was intended. On alternate days, this food was sent to the neighbouring wing, where comrades from Dalmatia and Herzegovina were held, helping alleviate their hunger and prevent starvation. As I mentioned, they were in a worse position than we were, as they did not receive packages from home.

Despite the efforts of the collectives and the Party to keep everyone alive, some inmates died here. I remember the death of a man named Miletić (his first name escapes me). Due to a storm, we couldn’t bury him outside, so he was buried on Mamula. During my time in the camp, I do not recall anyone else dying and being buried on the island itself.

Dr. Mrđen did a great deal to save many inmates on Mamula. He provided special treatment for those seriously ill and, in fact, for many others as well. These patients were sent to the hospital in Meljine for treatment. Through this, we gained valuable information about the outside situation, particularly regarding the frontlines, and our comrades on the ground also learned about our lives in the camp. However, Dr. Mrđen’s actions eventually attracted Italian scrutiny.

When the Italians found out, they dismissed him.

The connection between Herceg-Novi, other locations along the Boka Bay, and Mamula was maintained by a ship called "Barfoara," which we called "Marica." This ship served various purposes: it transported prisoners to Mamula, took some for medical treatment, and delivered food and packages. This ship was used to transfer exhausted inmates from Dalmatia and Herzegovina from Mamula to a neighbouring camp on Prevlaka, It as well as those who were being released and allowed to return home.

The camp regime was very strict. The occupiers made constant efforts to sever our connections to the outside world, but packages remained one way of maintaining contact. For this reason, all packages were thoroughly inspected by prison authorities. Still, some information managed to slip through, especially in loaves of bread. Messages also arrived hidden in shoe polish containers, with letters at the bottom of the box containing crucial information. Sometimes, a cork would be hollowed out to conceal a letter inside.

The Italians hadn’t anticipated these tactics. Even bottles of Chianti wine were used to smuggle letters. However, as time passed, the Italians increasingly discovered these hidden messages and confiscated them.

THE CONNECTION IS ESTABLISHED

One day, a deserter named Marko Lazarević (now an emigrant in West Germany) turned himself in to the Italians and revealed everything he knew about our movement and us, the behind-the-scenes workers. As a result, the occupiers not only learned the names of other underground members but also obtained my name. He also betrayed comrades Stipo Lončarić, Vlado Porobić, Aleksa Mikulić, and Boško Drobnjak.

That same morning, all of us were arrested. I remember being found while getting a haircut at Karlo Ciber’s barbershop. I had no idea how the crackdown had unfolded. Two Carabinieri burst into the shop with their pistols drawn and took me into custody. I was taken to the judicial prison in Herceg Novi, where I found myself in a cell with all the other mentioned comrades.

We kept asking in vain: who had betrayed us? What was the cause of this arrest?

Krsto Dončić, the prison warden and one of our sympathisers, had a good connection with our movement. Through him, we learned that Marko Lazarević, who had surrendered to the Italians, was the one who had betrayed us.

With this information, we could better prepare for our conduct under interrogation. The investigation began, but they did not physically abuse us at first. Naturally, we kept to our agreement, denying any involvement with the People’s Liberation Movement (NOP) or the People’s Liberation Army (NOV).

The next day, bound one by one and kept 30 metres apart (each of us flanked by two Carabinieri), we were escorted to the questura for questioning. The escort was scheduled for 10 a.m., the busiest time in the streets of Herceg Novi, as the fascists wanted to intimidate the public and make a statement that the People’s Liberation Movement was “falling apart.”

Our entire group, every individual, displayed exemplary conduct—conduct befitting fighters of the people. Within eight days, we were taken individually, often during the night, for interrogation at the Questura.

After eight days, we were transferred by boat to the prison in Kotor, around 5 May 1942, if I recall correctly.

The Kotor prison was overcrowded, with barely enough space for everyone, and we were soon transferred in groups to the island of Mamula.

When we boarded the boat, we didn’t know where they were taking us. The boat docked at Mamula, and we realised we would be held in the old Austro-Hungarian fortress, now turned into a prison camp.

We were uncertain if we would stay there or if this was just a temporary stop on the way to further internment.

The uncertainty weighed heavily on us, made worse by the unbearable heat as we were crammed 70 people to a cell. Hunger and thirst intensified our suffering, and there were daily deaths among the detainees from Herzegovina, who had been brought here much earlier and were physically exhausted from hunger and hardship. At first, we had no contact with our movement on the mainland. Every evening, someone would be taken away. Rumours spread that they were going “for questioning,” 

to “another camp.” 

go...

 No one ever returned. Our worst fears were confirmed when we later learned that many of our comrades had been killed along various points on the Montenegrin coast—at Kameno, Dugonja, along the Riviera, in Grbalj, and in Kotor. Most were from Herzegovina, with some from Boka as well. The fascists kept the execution sites strictly secret, except for public shootings, which they used to intimidate the local population.

Mamula seemed like the occupiers’ “purging ground.” The question of who would be next and when hovered over us daily like a guillotine. During the autumn of 1942, all the comrades on the occupiers' list were executed. Some were taken from Mamula to special military courts, usually in Zadar, where they were sentenced mostly to death or to imprisonment terms of 100 years or more. These sentences (except for the death sentences) felt almost like rewards, as each of us had a deeply rooted conviction that these punishments would soon be cut short by our victory over fascism.

Even here—in the death camp on Mamula Island—we organised active political work on our own initiative. We formed a Party and a military organisation. While we still had no direct link with the Party on the mainland, our leadership discussed ways to establish one.

One morning around 8 o'clock, during our hour-long exercise period, Jugola Grakalić and Stipo Lončarić approached me. I believe this happened in July 1943. Taking me by the arm, Lončarić whispered:

“We need to discuss something with you.”

From the way they spoke, I sensed it was about a secret, underground mission. Jugola continued, “We’ve been considering a task—to establish a connection with the Party on the mainland. We’ve chosen you for this mission. We’re confident you’ll take it on and see it through.”

They explained the plan for my task in detail as we walked.

I understood that I first had to simulate an illness—joint inflammation—acting as though the pain prevented me from moving. Jugola and Stipo would then, through Dr. Stevo Mrđen (an interned doctor whom the Italians used as a physician), arrange for me to be transferred to the hospital in Meljine.

I remembered every word as they explained, “You will carry a coded letter and hand it over to Pero Čebić, a hospital worker in Meljine. He receives and logs the patients. Think it all over and prepare yourself.”

For almost two weeks, I feigned joint inflammation on Mamula. To raise my temperature, my comrades gave me raw potatoes, garlic, and sugar.

I even doused myself in cold water and exposed myself to drafts to increase my chances of success.

Among us on Mamula was an undercover fascist agent, Dr. Feller (I don’t remember his first name). The authorities ordered him to examine me. He insisted that I was healthy, and when I did develop a fever, he claimed there was no need to send me to Meljine. He diagnosed me with “tuberculosis of the joints,” saying I would not last long.

Following this, Dr. Mrđen had a confrontation with Feller, rebuking him for his lack of compassion and professional integrity. Afterward, Dr. Mrđen personally appealed to the camp director.

He was citing the rights of the Red Cross and demanding I be treated at the Meljine hospital. So, under the escort of two Carabinieri, I was transferred to Meljine. Just before my departure, Grakalić gave me instructions and a letter. On the motorboat between Mamula and Meljine, it was just me and my escorts.

Following my comrades' advice, I placed the letter in a glass vial and hid it inside a tube.

Despite this precaution, the Italians didn’t search me on the journey.

I was fortunate that one of the Carabinieri was familiar with me from when I was an underground worker in Herceg Novi. He had often visited my landlady’s shop, allegedly to see her assistant, with whom he was enamoured. He recognised me and even seemed to hold a certain sympathy.

Once we arrived at Meljine hospital grounds, they no longer kept close watch on me.

Right away, I noticed how devotedly Pero Čebić handled the registration of comrades arriving from Mamula, making it easier for me to pass him the coded letter. 

We were alone as he prepared the logbook. While he sharpened his pencil, I slipped the letter from my pocket and placed it inside his book.

He gave me a quick glance and, recognising the situation, I followed the script, saying only:

 “This is for Luka.” With that, my task was complete. Čebić quickly recorded my name in the logbook and then left the room with it. Afterward, I was examined at length by an Italian doctor and returned to Mamula by the same boat, though I had expected to stay in Meljine for at least a few days.

This motorboat would also collect mail and packages for the detainees at the Herceg Novi port. My heart pounded as, after so many months in captivity, I finally saw the town where I had joined the revolutionary movement. I spotted people with packages on the shore, and among them were my former underground comrades Gospava Kovačević, Milojka Cuković, and Milanka Terzović.

I later learned that Pero Čebić had informed them of my likely arrival by boat, so they came “as relatives” bearing packages. We exchanged glances, but not a single word. This was the first organised connection between Mamula’s partisan organisation and the Party on the mainland. For us, this connection was crucial for the continued work and struggle as we moved into the political changes on the horizon.

LEAVING MAMULA

After part of the detainees from Mamula and Prevlaka were evacuated to northern Italy, to the Visco camp, many remained on Mamula, and new prisoners were brought in.

The fall of fascism in Italy was met with great enthusias. There was a noticeable unrest among the soldiers, who now openly expressed their desire for the war to end quickly so they could return home. At night, while keeping guard on Mamula’s walls, they would sing songs laced with nostalgia for home and loved ones. This was no longer an army, but people who felt betrayed, brought to a foreign land. They tried to get closer to us and inform us about what was happening outside. Life in the camp became a little easier, and we were allowed to be outside our cells throughout the day. This change allowed the Party organisation, communists, and members of the SKOJ (League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia) to operate more freely, connect more closely, and prepare for the major events to come.

Soon, all the detainees were organised into platoons, with seasoned fighters of the Orjen Battalion chosen as platoon leaders, and Jugole Grakalić appointed as commander. However, this was only the easier part of our preparations. The more pressing questions were: How to leave Mamula? How to organise an escape? How to cut off the telephone line and underwater cable that served as the only link to the mainland?

There was talk of at least one prisoner escaping from Mamula. Krsto Vranković, a well-known swimmer and early resistance fighter, was chosen, but the attempt was ultimately abandoned because it carried many risks with little chance of success. It was impossible to leave the fortress walls undetected. Although this plan was shelved, the idea of escape was not.

To avoid being trapped in our cells by any sudden events, comrade Dušan Novaković crafted makeshift keys for each cell, allowing us to unlock them at night if the situation demanded.

Growing restless, we even sent a delegation (Miloš Bakočević and Erih Koš) to negotiate with the camp administration for our release. The surprised camp commander responded with “vederemo” (we’ll see), but took no further action, as he too was overwhelmed and defeated by the unfolding events.

In this atmosphere, we awaited Italy’s fall. The detainees celebrated and began to more insistently demand freedom, sending delegations to the commander and applying heavy pressure on the entire garrison to release us. This pressure intensified once we learned that the Germans had entered Boka, occupying the fortresses at Kobila, Prevlaka, and Oštro. This was merely the vanguard, but a firm decision was made not to wait for the Germans at the camp. The situation was highly unclear: the Italians still held Mamula and the fortifications at Arza, while at Prevlaka and Oštra the Italians and Germans were cooperating. Soon, however, an armed conflict broke out between the Italians and the Germans. An artillery duel began over Mamula, with the Germans on Oštra and the Italians on Arza exchanging fire. All day long, shells tore through the sky above Mamula. A small war had erupted between yesterday's allies.

Meanwhile, on Prevlaka, the Germans disarmed the Italians, who soon found themselves in the camp among their former prisoners.

The Italians on Mamula watched the artillery duel in fear, disheartened and unable to maintain control over the camp.

In this tense moment, a small boat approached Mamula. Realising that the decisive moment had arrived, the detainees broke through, overcoming any attempts by the Carabinieri to stop them, rushing out of the fortress walls and boarding the boat. The boat continuously transported detainees to the Luštica Peninsula. During the crossing, the Germans began firing on the boat to prevent the prisoners from escaping, but fortunately, no harm was done. The detainees reached freedom, rushing to the opposite side of the bay, towards Herceg Novi. They entered as an organised force, singing, and the next day, on 15 September 1943, they continued towards Orjen to resume their fight for their country’s freedom. Others headed towards Tivat, Kotor, and Grbalj to join the battles against the Germans in Lepetane.

NO MORE “EVIVA”

The day would begin with morning exercises, consisting of endless repetitions of “lie down—get up.” This routine lasted a long time, and often, some of us would lie down and simply not get up, exhausted, staying on the ground as a silent protest against this form of torment. Some would defiantly lift themselves up on their hands only to collapse again. Eventually, these exercises were stopped, only to be replaced by a new form of torture—this time psychological. Instead of morning exercises, they started daily lectures on the “achievements of the great Empire,” on the conquest of Russia, and similar topics. The head of the prison usually read these lectures, sometimes assisted by his deputy. The more successes the occupiers claimed on the front, the greater their fury towards us, especially towards the communists. They would even directly call for the communists among us to step forward and explain their goals, claiming that their arguments for the superiority of fascism would be stronger. Naturally, no one fell for these provocations. The lectures dragged on, and sometimes individuals, weakened by hunger, would faint before they ended.
At lunch, lined up with our plates in hand, we had to raise our right hands and repeat several times the words of the on-duty Carabinieri: “Eviva Duce,” “Eviva Re.” During this ritual, Carabinieri surrounded us, watching closely for anyone who didn’t say “eviva” or didn’t say it loudly enough. Often, this ceremony ended with some of us collapsing onto the cobblestone along with our plates, whether from genuine exhaustion or deliberate action.
I clearly remember one day in July when a senior officer was due to visit. Preparations in the camp had been underway for days. Around 10 a.m., a large man appeared, dressed in a black uniform with numerous decorations on his chest. We peeked through the bars, watching. It wasn’t until noon that they opened our cell doors and called us out to line up. He stood above us on a raised platform. The guards quietly, through a translator, warned us of the guest’s arrival and told us to shout as loudly as possible when saluting the king and Duce, supposedly because he was very interested in that. This only strengthened our resolve to do the opposite, quietly signalling each other to collapse to the ground, feigning weakness.
There were 250 detainees in the line-up. After the command of “Attenzione” (in Italian), came the customary “Eviva.”
The collective voice of 250 detainees barely matched that of a dozen men, and the lifting and lowering of our hands reflected our physical exhaustion. Despite the commands to repeat the salute several times, more and more of us fell onto the cobblestone.
The high-ranking guest paced impatiently along the narrow path, finally issuing an order to the camp commander, stating that from then on, we were no longer required to salute the king and Duce. Supposedly, we were “not worthy” to mention their names since we had fought against them.
This was our great victory. With faces brightened and eyes glinting, as much as they could under such circumstances, we received our lunch and whispered to one another: “No more ‘Eviva’.”

Translation from German
M 13/8-1914
My dear Olga,
I haven’t received a letter from you today either.
I wrote to you recently; you need to tell Vito to take good care of my bicycle. By the way, I forgot to mention that if this (bicycle) arrives via the Hungarian Agency (?) … (Croata?? – illegible, likely the name of some insurance company) or Lloyd’s, I wrote to Milinović to buy me one (bicycle) under the table.
Write and send my regards to everyone.
Warmest regards to you,
Your Mirko
P.S. I received your letter today.

Mamula, 26 July 1914
My dear Olga,
As you can see, I am on Mamula.
I am sharing a room with Mr. Mayor Gojko and Mr. Anteljević.
I am not afraid and be at ease—as you know well, I haven’t done anything wrong.
Please send me, through Mr. Niko Doklestić / young Doklestić at the municipality / a suitcase with underwear, two bars of soap, a toothbrush, and some Pebeco toothpaste (?).
Additionally, please buy 1 kg of salami, two pieces of local cheese, and a few tins of sardines from Perčinović. These are for me, Gojkovic, and Anteljević.
Also, send five packs of women’s cigarettes.
Again, stay calm; we are doing well.
I wrote to you that everything should be sent through young Doklestić since he will contact the commissioner to find out how to deliver these items to us.
Warm regards from your Mirko
P.S. Please send me “Die Zeit” and “Neue Frei-Presse” newspapers every day.
P.P.S. Saluta tutti (Send my regards to everyone).

On 4 August 1942, Carabinieri surrounded our house and ordered us onto a truck bound for Herceg Novi. My mother, being 61 years old, was left at home, but they shoved me and my sister into the truck, taking us first to Zelenika and later to prison in Herceg Novi. The next day, our relatives arrived, bringing necessary items and asking where our elderly mother and my sister's three orphaned children were. We were beside ourselves, not knowing where they had taken Mother and the children. We broke down in tears, fearing the worst. The following morning, two armed Carabinieri brought Mother and the children to the prison. The sight was laughable – an old woman with three small children under guard. Such courage! I’m surprised they didn’t bring a machine gun along with them.

On 8 August, eight Carabinieri escorted us, along with several other women and 17 children, to Prevlaka. You can imagine our feelings. Just two days after the July uprising, one of my brothers had been taken from our house, and for three full months, we heard nothing of his fate. Finally, after three months, he sent word from Albania, but before he could return home, our own traitors had him sent from camp to camp, ending up in Italy. Another brother had been jailed a month before us in Kotor, awaiting trial every day, facing either death or a life sentence. My niece was sentenced to ten years in prison the same day we were detained, leaving our house empty and locked for a full year—except for the tenants.

When those traitors would pass by the house, they’d spit and shout, “Why hasn’t this house burned yet? It shouldn’t exist. Those criminals don’t deserve a place to live. It should be torched, and they should all be killed; they’re bandits and communists.” Naturally, we had no reason to expect any better treatment from the Italians, especially with our own people speaking this way about us. Still, we didn’t lose heart; we consoled ourselves, thinking it better to be in the camp with a clear conscience than to sell ourselves to the occupier for pasta, a loaf of bread, or logs. We knew that later our comrades would hold no ill opinion of us.

In the camp, we endured hard days among a hundred other women, waiting for the miserable ration of five pastas and a bite of cheese. We comrades from Boka managed because on the 1st and 15th of each month, we would receive packages from home, helping us get by. But as for those in the Croatian camp (so-called because it housed detainees from Dalmatia and other regions), they were far from home, without packages or anything except their meagre five pastas. Those poor souls, exhausted and desperate, resorted to pulling up grass and roots to eat, unknowingly poisoning themselves. It was painful for us; we couldn’t even look their way, let alone share something from our own packages to sustain them. How many times, while they were taking us from Boka to bathe, did we pass by where they held the Croatian internees. We would see them, bedraggled, with a straw mat thrown over their shoulders, being led to a small hut to lie down and await death. Many of them left their bones under the olive trees of Prevlaka. In our camp, a brigadier or lieutenant, whom we called “Žutko,” would inspect us several times daily, shouting insults and telling us Russia was defeated and that we’d see no sun until Rome conquered us. We would huddle from the cold, lighting fires outside and bringing hot coals inside to warm up, always on guard in case a Carabinieri came by, as being caught meant a trip to the “dark room” as punishment. Threats of the dark room were constant. One day, 26 of us women were beaten and locked up there. We spent seven hours in that stinking, damp cell, with water dripping from the walls. Mail from home came every two months, and they’d lure us outside to receive it, only to herd us off to gather firewood for the kitchen and command post before handing over the letters. When we received packages, to make sure no note from our loved ones was accidentally inside, everything would be emptied out onto blankets, no matter what it was. There were often salted sardines, sugar, salt, homemade goods, and so on. They would mix it all together, then laugh and say we’d have a good feast. If we asked for a little more water, they’d turn the butt of their rifles and strike us on the back, saying, “Here’s your water.”

Žutko would beat us and throw us into the boat as if we were mere logs, not living beings. Somehow, we barely made it to Mamula. Once we arrived, they crammed us into cells filled with all sorts of filth and vermin, which were not easy to get rid of. We begged the commander and brigadier to let us clean the cell, and finally, they grudgingly allowed it. One group was permitted to clean the cells, while another had to wash 1,000 blankets and dirty straw mattresses from storage in the sea. We were allowed out of the miserable cells only an hour or two a day. Every Tuesday, a priest came to serve mass, and we’d all eagerly go, not out of piety but for a breath of fresh air and to catch a glimpse of our comrades in other cells.

But the pleasure was short-lived as we could only see each other through the bars, and if we smiled at each other, they would withhold food for two days, so eventually, we stopped going to mass altogether. Three times a week, around 6 p.m., they would take us to bathe, but to prevent us from swimming across, they stationed a machine gun above us.

Day by day, we began falling ill from the lack of air, and on 17 July, they moved us back to Prevlaka. The day we left Mamula, they covered the men’s windows with boards and blankets so they couldn’t see us depart, but we still managed to bid them farewell with a song:

Farewell, comrades, stay with God,

You, our brave eagles proud

The crimson dawn will soon appear

The sun of freedom shining clear

It’s not the leaving that pains us so

From Mamula we must go.

Despite all the guards, the men threw their blankets aside and waved at us with towels and handkerchiefs, and perhaps today the walls of those cells still bear the messages we left for comrades who came after us, awaiting their freedom.

On the third day after our return to Prevlaka, my mother and I were released to go home (my sister and her children had been sent home six months earlier). Although exhausted by the internment and under constant surveillance from the Chetniks and occupiers, we immediately resumed our work, aiding our comrades in the field.

Gjenovic, 7 March 1945 Marica Janković, m.p.

FIRST LETTER

ENVELOPE DETAILS

Stamp date: 17 March 1943.

Signora Ljubica Vranovich

Castelnuovo di Cattaro

LETTER TEXT

Mamula, 09 February 1943

Dear Mama,

I received your letter dated 01 February, where you mentioned that Dad has gone to Trieste. Please write to me when he returns. Is Miliš still in Kotor? Let me know about that too. I received the package without any issues. Yesterday, I received a money order for 150 lire. My health is good, so don’t worry about me. How are you? Let me know if we’ll be travelling soon, as everyone is interested in that. Keep sending the package through Milojko Tadić as before. Send my regards to everyone in Topla. The sole of these yellow shoes has split in the middle, which is why I asked you to send me my old black shoes. This rubber is no good. If you think we’ll be travelling soon, please send me the black shoes. With all my love, your Krsto.

SECOND LETTER

ENVELOPE DETAILS

Stamp date: 10 April 1943

Signor Vrancovich Nicolo

Castelnuovo di Cattaro

LETTER TEXT

Mamula, 02 February 1943

My dear family,

I received your card dated 26 March. In almost every card, you mention that I’m not writing. Writing is only permitted twice a month. I haven’t missed a single chance to write to you. If you’re not receiving the letters regularly, it’s not my fault. My health is good. I had mentioned that you don’t need to send amaretti or candies, as they take up space. Biscotti are more useful as they last longer and are more nourishing. Please send me some coffee. I received all the items that Vlado brought, along with the 50 lire, in good order. I received the package from 17 March on 24 March. With much love, yours, Petar.

VII. CONCENTRATION CAMPS MAMULA AND PREVLAKA

Zec (thirty-four): Todor, Stane (Marko's), Mare (Marko's), Stane, Bočo, Anđe, Krsto, Nikola, Ivana, Velika, Mitar, Ljubo, Mare (Stevan's), Anđe (Jovo's), Stane (Jovo's), Milica, Ljubica, Dušan, Joke, Anđe (Mitar's), Joke (Pero's), Ivana, Stane (Krsto's), Mitar, Ljubica, Ivana, Milica, Ljubica (Luka's), Ivana (Vaso's), Danica, Stane (Vaso's), Milica, Ljubica, and Anđe.

Ivanka Lalić, “Natives of Pobori on Mamula and Prevlaka,” in Proceedings: Prisons and Camps…, p. 227; Aleksandar Drašković: “The Moral Aspect of the Internment of Children at Mamula and Prevlaka During World War II,” n.p., p. 292.

On 30 March 1942, General Renzo Dalmazzo, Commander of the Sixth Army Corps, informed his subordinate commands about the establishment of concentration camps at Mamula Fortress and the Prevlaka Peninsula. He issued the following orders: “…1. To Mamula Fortress: a) Civilians of both sexes for whom an internment decision has been issued. b) Hostages. 2. To the Prevlaka Camp: a) Civilians of both sexes (the elderly, women, children, the handicapped) who, although not guilty of any immediate crime, need to be restricted in movement for security and public order. b) Detained individuals undergoing verification regarding the measures to be applied against them (internment or hostage status).

The responsibility for determining the level of guilt for those in category b) lies with the Division Command, which will inform this command of decisions in each case after concluding investigations. 3. Subordinate commands, based on this Army Corps decision, will take the necessary steps to escort these individuals to Mamula Fortress under the watch of subordinate Carabinieri, ensuring that they bring documentation supporting the actions taken (proposals for internment and decisions by the Army Corps Command).

Personal files will be kept by the camp officers – the Camp Commanders – in individually named folders. 4. To ensure greater discipline, I order that women be housed in the central part of Mamula Fortress, male internees in one wing, and male hostages in the other.

Strict attention is to be paid to prevent any contact between these three groups of internees.

Women were transferred to the Prevlaka Camp. The left wing of the fortress housed internees from the annexed territory, primarily from the Kotor Province.

The right wing contained detainees from the second and third Italian occupation zones, namely the territory under the Independent State of Croatia (NDH).

In the three cells in the fortress’s central section, referred to as the “Foro,” those under the jurisdiction of the Special Tribunal (Tribunale di Guerra) were held.

Order of the Sixth Army Corps Command No. 1297/CP, dated 30 March 1942. Translated from Italian by the author of the book. AVII, Reg. No. 7/2-1, Box 637. In the Croatian sections, detainees from NDH territories were held, which gave the section its name; however, it also included Serbian internees, as well as a number of Muslims and a few Jewish detainees.

Internees in both camps were granted certain freedoms as long as there was no suspicion of an escape attempt or responsibility for serious violations of internal order and discipline. In such cases, restrictions on personal freedom were to be applied in designated areas within the camp. 6. Camp officers and commanders were strictly forbidden from accepting internees from the military or civil administration of a given territory without higher command approval. 7. For clarification of these regulations, I add: all persons arrested by divisional Carabinieri or the Army Corps for crimes under the General Penal Code, Military Penal Code, or other existing orders are to be taken to the appropriate judicial prison, not to these camps.

8. The Infantry Division Messina is requested to oversee the implementation of these orders and to pass this task to the Emilia Infantry Division Command when it assumes these duties.141 The Prevlaka camp was located in an isolated part of the military garrison of the same name.

The Prevlaka Peninsula is essentially a narrow strip of land extending approximately 2 km into the sea from the foothills of Mount Osoje. At its tip lies an artillery fortress known as Cape Oštro, part of a fortification system protecting the entrance to the Boka Bay. Due to its strategic position, the peninsula had long been used as an artillery training ground and garrison site.

The camp itself was located on the side of the peninsula facing the bay, near the narrowest part of the land ("Prevlaka" means narrow passage), from which the peninsula derived its name. A barbed-wire barrier extended deep into the sea on both sides, with a movable gate guarded by sentries and a machine-gun post.

The camp area comprised barracks built of wood and solid materials, as well as one larger pavilion. The entire perimeter was enclosed with barbed wire, guard posts, and machine-gun nests.

The camp was divided into four sections: the so-called Bokelian male and Bokelian female sections, and the Croatian male and Croatian female sections, each with its own kitchen.

A military infirmary operated within the camp, and later, a disinfection and insect-control pavilion was built for use by internees from both camps.

At the end of 1942, the Prevlaka Camp was renamed a civilian camp, changing its designation to “Campo Internati Politici” (civilians).

The concentration camp at Mamula Fortress was under the command of the Emilia Division, while the Prevlaka Camp fell under the Messina Infantry Division’s jurisdiction.

By the end of August or early September 1942, both camps came under a single command: “Comando Campi di Concentramento I. R.” (Command of Political Internee Camps).

The internal organisation of the camps was prescribed by Army General Mario Roatta, Commander of the Second Army, who issued general rules for camp organisation that all army corps, division, and camp commands were required to follow strictly.

Points one and two of these rules are of particular relevance:

…Point 1 Organisation of Internal Services in Camps.

The internal service in camps for political internees must be organised by the relevant commands in great detail and in a manner that provides absolute assurance that any attempt at escape will be vigorously and effectively prevented so that every internee understands that escape from the camp is impossible.

The camp command will prepare detailed surveillance regulations, including guard orders, inspections, patrols, and officer rounds within and near the camp.

Each camp will be assigned a permanent detachment of armed soldiers. The strength of this detachment will depend on the number of internees but should never be less than a platoon.

ach command will have a group of Royal Carabinieri assigned to camp security duty. Personnel assigned to maintain order and guard the camp must be capable of performing this specialised duty effectively.

Point 2 – Treatment of Internees.

Internees will be treated as prisoners. They will wear their own clothes and are prohibited from possessing valuables.

They are limited to no more than twenty lire.

Internees are prohibited from approaching the wire at night or leaving their quarters.

They will have outdoor access in groups for one hour in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, but may not move beyond the camp perimeter.

New arrivals will undergo strict and detailed personal searches and inspections of personal belongings before coming into contact with other internees.

Roll-calls are to be frequent and at varying times.

The duty officer must inspect the camp at least once during the night.

Internees and their possessions, dormitories, and shared spaces must be carefully inspected. These inspections are to be random and at varying times.

Internees are forbidden from playing cards.

Smoking is allowed only during the day and only during outdoor time.

Internees are to be divided into groups of approximately twenty. Each group or section should be led by the most suitable person, ideally one who knows Italian.

The rules prescribed, and enforced throughout 1942, that even room supervisors should be selected as the most trustworthy individual. Room leaders were appointed by the camp command, suggesting the level of trust given to those chosen as wing supervisors, interpreters, or similar positions within the camp.

Интернираним је дозвољено писати кући по једну поштанску карту сваких петнаест дана. Сва пошта треба да буде подвргнута строгој цензури.

Any violation of camp order or discipline was to be immediately punished, with offenders placed in the camp prison and, if necessary, shackled. Any attempted rebellion was to be reported immediately to the military court of the garrison or military area.

The culprits, including any accomplices, could be transferred to other prisons.

The regime for interned women prescribed: a thorough search conducted by two specially selected female internees considered trustworthy.

Women were to be housed in separate sections, isolated from men, and, in the event of limited space, transferred to the nearest civilian prison.

Women were permitted extended outdoor time during the day but were prohibited from leaving the barbed-wire enclosure or contacting those in other parts of the camp...”.144 145 * * * * * 144

Extract from the Regulations, translated from Italian. Order of the Second Army Command No. 01971 of 17 March 1942. AVIL Reg. No. 7/2-1, Box 673. The document is titled: “Concentration Camps”, Act No. 1021/TG, dated 29 April 1942, AJ, Italian documents, Folder 1.

Author’s Note: The conditions in the Prevlaka camp were somewhat more favourable than those in the Mamula concentration camp. Accordingly, the Sixth Army

Corps Command retained the right to decide which detainees would be transferred from Mamula to Prevlaka.

Practically none of those under investigation or subject to military authorities, including the Special Court, could be transferred to Prevlaka. Transfers were typically limited to the ill or frail or those for whom an influential person had intervened with the Division Command or the Prefect of the Kotor Province. Translation Bando 143. Original in AVII, Reg. No. 2/6-2, Box 562. Politika Express, issue 380 of 20 January 1974, reports a statement by Peko Popović, in which he says: “…He was the only one who managed to escape from the infamous fascist camp “Campo Mamula” and reached the shore by swimming on 23 June 1942…” This escape has not been documented, and it would be expected that the disappearance of a person would have been noticed, at least by those with whom he had shared a cell. Unfortunately, we were unable to speak to the mentioned Peko Popović. As previously noted, escape from the Mamula fortress was practically impossible.

Other sections of the Order detail medical services, administration, camp supply logistics, and similar topics.

In the Sixth Army Corps Command’s cover letter distributing these regulations to camp commands, the following instructions were included: “…a) a pavilion for infectious diseases, as well as facilities for disinfection and de-lousing of internees from both camps, is to be erected in Prevlaka camp; b) detainees in Prevlaka camp, in addition to the tasks outlined in the Second Army Command Order under items 5.c) and d), should carry out agricultural work near the camp.

The document concludes by reiterating that the Sixth Army Corps Command reserves the right to determine: 1. Which individuals from Mamula camp shall be transferred to Prevlaka, and 2. Which individuals may be considered hostages.

Punitive Procedure for Escape Attempts

Strict internal and external security measures were necessary to prevent any contact between detainees and the outside world, especially escape attempts. In addition to the orders issued by the Commander of the Second Army, camp commands were required to apply Mussolini’s *Bando* (Decree) N. 143 in case of any attempted escape by detainees, outlining specific punitive procedures against those who attempted to flee.

Article 1 of this *Bando* states: “…Persons interned in concentration camps established on the territory of the former Kingdom of Yugoslavia, which is now annexed to the Kingdom of Italy, are subject to military criminal law and will be tried by military courts.” Article 2 specifies: “…Anyone who escapes or attempts to escape from the camp shall be punished with imprisonment of three to ten years.” Article 3 adds: “…Anyone who assists an escapee from the camp shall be punished with up to six years of imprisonment.”146 Escape from the Mamula fortress was practically impossible.

No such attempts are known to have occurred.

9*

Prevlaka Camp was also well-guarded. Certain detainees had the possibility of escape when they, sometimes with guards and sometimes allegedly without them, were taken to nearby woods to cut and collect firewood for the kitchens.

However, no escapes were registered in this camp either.

Commanders of the Mamula and Prevlaka Concentration Camps

Both camps had their own commanders, along with their deputies and assistants, selected according to strict criteria.

According to instructions from the Second Army Command and the Sixth Army Corps Command, priority was given to Royal Carabinieri officers who had already proven to be completely reliable, competent, and energetic, and who were known fascist supporters.

The same criteria applied to the appointment of non-commissioned officers.

The Sixth Army Corps Commander issued appointment orders based on recommendations from the commanders of the Messina and Emilia divisions.

In the Mamula fortress, there were two commanders: the Commander of the Fortress, who was technically the garrison commander, and the Commander of the Mamula Concentration Camp.* * * * * * * * 148

Escape would require evading guards and patrols and swimming about 1.6 miles, demanding the endurance of a marathon swimmer.

Below the article, Mirko Radojičić, himself a former detainee, handwrote, “The account is inaccurate; he did not escape from Mamula but from Prevlaka...”

Thus, this report of an escape from either the Mamula or Prevlaka camp remains speculative. 148The specifics of appointments are unclear, so it is uncertain whether any commanders or non-commissioned officers were stationed on this remote island fortress as a form of punishment. Given the sadistic treatment by certain individuals towards detainees, it’s possible that some were.

The Mamula and Prevlaka camp commanders were hierarchically subordinate to the Concentration Camp Command (also the command of the 120th Infantry Regiment of the Emilia Division).

The Concentration Camp Commander reported directly to the Emilia Infantry Division Commander, who, in turn, was subordinate to the Sixth Army Corps Commander under the Second Army Command.

At the head of the Second Army was Army General Mario Roatta.

The Sixth Army Corps was commanded by General Renzo Dalmazzo, with General Giuseppe Romano commanding the Emilia Infantry Division.

Three colonels led the “Comando Campi di Concentramento I.R.” (Concentration Camp Command for Political Internees): Colonel Pasquini Piramo as the first commander, followed by Colonel Paolo Rivara from December 1942, and finally Colonel Giuseppe Prolaran from mid-1943 until the Kingdom of Italy's capitulation. The names of the Mamula and Prevlaka camp commanders, their deputies, and certain Carabinieri non-commissioned officers appear based on specific orders, instructions, and correspondence. For many, the exact period of their service or precise duties remain undetermined. Known Mamula Fortress or Concentration Camp Commanders included: Captain Rosario Montalto (Royal Carabinieri), listed as camp commander on 28 August 1942; Second Lieutenant Paolo Frinzzi as deputy commander on 5 July 1942; Lieutenant Arturo Gelati as fortress commander in late May 1942; Lieutenant Federico Moroni as camp commander in early 1943; Second Lieutenant Balsamo Enrico as camp commander on 28 May 1943; and Captain E. Rondinelli as camp commander in September 1943.

Carabinieri, specifically Sergeants Varotto Giuseppe, Pizzaroli Affilio, Brigadier Auricchio Francesco, and Vice Brigadier, also served in the camp.

Other Carabinieri at Mamula (with incomplete names and ranks) included: Brunetti, Bellini, Giovagnelli, Maggio, Faccini, Botti, Pabrlotti, Rossi, Anghieri, Pochetti Elio, and Gali Sebastiano.

Known Prevlaka Camp Commanders included: Lieutenant Mascheroni Igidio, Lieutenant Lambertti Carlo, Lieutenant Saltorelli Secondo, and Lieutenant Dr. Julito Aldo, the camp doctor.

For July, August, and September 1943, Prevlaka commanders were Lieutenant Brunetta from Venice, Lieutenant Benini as his deputy, and Second Lieutenant Salomon Luciano from Solggetto – Treviso.

External and Internal Camp Security

To Mamula were sent categories of internees subjected to a special regime (detainees) who required the application of specific security measures. As noted, this concentration camp was situated in a fortress maximally secured from both outside and inside: an island in the middle of the sea, surrounded by imposing walls, layers of barbed wire, and a fortified gate. Internally, it was divided by iron and concrete barriers into three strictly separated areas.

Due to its isolated position, the garrison consisted of about fifteen officers and non-commissioned officers with 40 soldiers on guard duty. The garrison included signalmen for optical communications, medical staff, and other technical support personnel.

The military unit possessed the following armaments: four Breda Model 30 heavy machine guns, 48 Model 91 rifles,

and an appropriate supply of ammunition

Additionally, boxes of rifle and machine-gun ammunition and 144 hand grenades were stored as reserves.149

Translation of official order from the 120th Infantry Regiment Command, Emilia Division.

Original in AVII, Reg. No. 5/1-1, Box 642. Translation of official order from the 120th Infantry Regiment Command, Emilia Division.

Оригинал, AVII, рег. бр. 5/1-1, к. 642.

The garrison's mission was the external protection of the island fortress and the prevention of unauthorised landings.

Guards had the task of preventing detainees from establishing any contact with the outside world, attempting to escape, or leaving cells, quarters, and dormitories without permission. Security was provided through: - Daytime: four guard posts; one at the fortress entrance, one inside, and one over each of the fortress’s wings. - Nighttime: guards were positioned around the ten guard posts;

One at the external fortress entrance and one inside, three guard posts outside the fortress, and one above the central part, known as “Foro.”

Guards were armed with loaded weapons

Each guard has been given specific instructions for guard duty. They were explicitly ordered to suppress any indiscipline among detainees or escape attempts, using force without hesitation if necessary.

The Royal Carabinieri unit in charge of internal security had the primary tasks of: - Guarding the internees at night, during work, and during outdoor activities. - Strictly monitoring detainee behaviour and maintaining cleanliness in cells, dormitories, and shared spaces. - Overseeing meal preparation and distribution.

Carabinieri non-commissioned officers regularly conducted daily roll calls of detainees in cells (Mamula camp) or barracks and sections (Prevlaka camp). 2. During meal distribution, they counted detainees in the presence of a wing leader (Saro ale), selected by the camp command from the internees. 3. The camp command’s officer on duty and Carabinieri non-commissioned officers conducted inspections every three hours at night to verify the presence of all detainees. Through specific counterintelligence methods, officers and Carabinieri monitored the behaviour, interactions, and reactions of individual detainees to disciplinary measures within the camp. The Royal Carabinieri unit assigned to Prevlaka had similar duties as their counterparts at Mamula. External security of the Prevlaka camp was maintained by a garrison unit that also secured the garrison and the entrance to the peninsula. Camp security included fixed and mobile guards, with patrols regularly monitoring the perimeter, which was enclosed with rows of barbed wire, guardhouses, and machine-gun nests.

The strength of the unit and Carabinieri detachment, along with their weaponry, was not specifically recorded.

The increase in the number of detainees and the changing structure at Mamula camp led to the implementation of new internal and external security measures, as well as improvements to the garrison’s living conditions. In this regard, Camp Commander Lieutenant Rosario Montalto, in late June 1942, submitted a written request to the Sixth Army Corps Command and the Emilia Infantry Division Command, urgently requesting an increase in military personnel, establishment of new guard posts, fortification of the fortress’s entrance, improved signalling, new communication tools for permanent contact with the mainland, better lighting, establishment of a medical service under camp command,

and timely provision of food, firewood, and other essential supplies for the garrison and camp

The Camp Commander especially emphasised strengthening the garrison's numbers. He requested the allocation of an infantry company of at least fifty soldiers, with one officer and three non-commissioned officers. He also sought the reinforcement of the Royal Carabinieri detachment with one non-commissioned officer and eight Carabinieri. The commander highlighted the harsh living conditions faced by the garrison, “living on a desolate, storm-battered island where practically nothing exists.” He urgently requested the establishment of a garrison canteen where personnel could acquire basic hygiene supplies, cigarettes, some alcoholic beverages, fruit, and similar necessities.

He particularly stressed the need to open an infirmary equipped with essential medicines and the urgent presence of a military doctor in the camp.

The commander believed that these provisions would reduce the garrison’s sense of isolation and increase their sense of security in the event of illness, a factor he deemed crucial for morale.151

Translated excerpts from letter No. 2/8 dated 29 June 1942. AJ, Italian documents, Folder 1.

The Emilia Infantry Division Commander, Giuseppe Romano, approved some of the camp commander’s requests.

The general’s response stated: “…Renovations are underway to secure the main entrance, fortify the storage room for automatic weapons, add additional layers of barbed wire around the fortress walls, and construct new guard posts. In case of an alarm, a special signal will be designated (a rifle shot, a whistle – these will be distributed to the guards).

Four acetylene lamps will be allocated, and an additional four batteries and accumulators have been requested from higher command.

These lamps are intended for use by the camp command and garrison rooms. No lighting will be installed in the cells where the detainees are held.

To communicate with the mainland, a cable will be requested from the Navy Command to connect the fortification at Cape Oštro to Mamula Fortress. A signalling link is also in the process of being established…”.