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But by the end of July the front lines stabilized, reason overcame emotion, and pleas for Ilijaz to come to Srebrenica and work as a doctor swayed him. He was a young general practitioner with very little experience. In the past months, heād used a saw and scalpel to amputate a manās leg, only to watch him die. Heād walked four miles to tend to a woman whoād been in labor for two days, only to watch her hemorrhage and die. And a twenty-year-old who had come to him with a tiny abdominal shrapnel wound began to vomit blood andthen died. He could do little for his patients without proper equipment and the ability to consult his colleagues and his books. As part of a medical team of doctors and nurses in a true health facility, he could do more and perhaps shake the sense of impotence that dogged him. He decided to join the war hospital. Once every hour, as cars zoomed by, hammers clanked, and buzz saws buzzed at the construction site of a new school, bells chimed from the white Orthodox church overlooking the town from a hill. The deep clangingāding, dong-dongā set roosters crowing and dogs barking. Five times a day, praises of Allah spun out of the loudspeakers atop Srebrenicaās five minarets to join the cacophony. MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER
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