Underneath the Plješivica mountains, the Željava airbase.

Updated: Dec 7, 2019

PLACE NO: 14 THE ŽELJAVA AIRBASE, CROATIA

The biker tour tearing up the airstrip - the Douglas C-47 behind.

Deep beneath the hills of Plješivica, the Yugoslavian military dug like Tolkien's dwarfs. They hollowed out the great mountain, creating mess-halls and assembly stations, aeroplane hangars and radar rooms; creating safety where none felt attainable. Željava airbase, codename ‘Objekat 505’, stretches over 3.5 kilometres underground, and it is into this dark place that I ventured.


We passed under the cliff which stood flat above us like some enormous forehead. Observed, the deep cracks that ran along its surface like the wrinkles on a perturbed mind. I wondered whether they'd crack and collapse onto our very heads as we passed beneath their scorn.


A galley was blasted into the bedrock; the cavity tattered and frayed with the living artefacts of a wild existence: dandelions, creepers, broadleaf bushes and deciduous trees, all scratching a living along the concrete boundary between runway and wilderness. All around lay the rubble and refuse of this great subterranean airport. A dugout chasm of militaristic might. The entrance was blocked with a heap of concrete to stop people driving straight through to another country - the five openings weaving between Bosnia and Croatia.


I have a feeling this sign was trying to tell me something

It’s dangerous. Dotted signs warned of mines still in the ground. The last victim reported online was in 2000. He was a mushroom picker, a Bosnian official, at least that's how the story goes. There’s also the radiation from the disintegrated smoke alarms, and the chemical compound PCB to avoid. I wouldn't know how to practically achieve this - just don't lick the walls or take bits with you.


Our guide jovially suggested that we shouldn’t worry about the mines. But the Bosnian Federation still use this ground to train its K9 units in finding explosives. I wouldn't feel confident exploring alone and keeping my legs.


We looked up and down the concrete stretch - this was the first of two major runways, along with a three further, but smaller, taxi-ways. These were used as rapid reaction takeoff sites. I imagined the planes tottering out of the mountain before streaking into the skies.


Some estimates surmise that this entire place cost 6$ billion to make i.e. the most expensive European military instalment in history. It was rumoured to have acted a little like NORAD in Colorado, as an advanced warning base in case of nuclear war. It was supposedly built from 1958 to around 1965 and was equipped with radar, but no nukes. It, however, was a secretive affair.


The Runway

Blissfully ignoring danger - pictured also: "some guy on a bike".

Just inside the entrance to the base.

Some guy on a bike turned up and after a quick chat with our guide, accompanied us inside - I imagined he felt a little bit safer with a crowd. A wrong turn could take you to Bosnia and land you facing  the border police and a fine. But to my mind, this might be the least of your worries. This was undoubtedly the site of years of smuggling, from drugs to people. Those sorts might be a lot worse. Regardless, you should always let officials know before you go nosing around. We stopped off at Izačić where our guide informed them of our intentions. On the way there, we drove past a landscape littered with burnt out buildings, pocked with bullets and empty of inhabitants. People not having the will nor the money to move back.


Every former Yugoslavian country has committed to not having a military based within 15km of their border, so this ruin will last forever.


The war in Croatia was slightly outside my time, coinciding with the fall of the Iron Curtain in 1991. I knew of it, but not much about it. I trace outlines on the map; trace the old borders of Yugoslavia, The USSR, find Kosovo, find East Germany and Czechoslovakia. Follow these old borders that still fall well within living memory. I considered the echos that touched decades of time, all fluttering out of that epicentre that was the Second World War - the second apocalypse - because we hadn’t learnt enough lessons with the first.


The border


Inside, the silence was total, as was the dark. Our guide handed out some torches which needed a bit of shaking to stay awake. And even then he didn’t quite have enough, but I wasn’t bothered. I needed two hands for my camera.


The tunnels were all aeroplane sized. I pictured the shadowy hush their wingspans above me might have created. Then I thought about the soldiers and saw that stereotypical image - the same one used in films about the Napoleon war to those on Iraq - of men sitting around on crates, smoking and playing cards. Except in this picture they were called things like Ivan or Radič.


I read later online, that the mess hall could cater for up to 1000 men for 30 days should the mountain be hermetically sealed i.e. should it be forced to withstand a 20 kiloton nuclear warhead (the same size as the one that hit Nagasaki) which it was made to do. The place had an underground aquifer, and fuel was delivered via underground pipes from the nearby village of Bihać. It was a fortress.








We walked out of the second entrance past where one of the blast doors had been C4’d out of existence. Eyewitnesses say that the cavern smoked for the next 6 months - like the last cold breaths of a dragon.


But I bet this place must have felt safe in its heyday. Wearing a stiff starched uniform, hunkering down under the protective hunches of Plješivica - safe in the belly of the beast amongst the two full fighter squadrons of MiG 21 jets. Nowadays though, I wouldn’t go too deep; the structural integrity of the base has been severely compromised by the bombs.


Outside stood an aeroplane - a Douglas C-47 shipped over when Yugoslavia still had good relations with the Americans. I expected to find crates stuffed full of statues of the Virgin Mary al la the TV show Lost. My mind had a propensity to blur fact and fiction in this incredible place. I hauled myself into the carcass of the plane. My fingers flicked all the switches still attached to the cockpit; moved the levers up and down. Still slightly afraid that the burned-out wreckage around me would shudder into life and take me away.

The blast doors which were said to 'hermetically seal' the mountain.


Just makes me think of Lost - is this Oceanic Flight 815? Where are my Madonna statues?

Taken from out on the wing.

The whole plane was stuffed with Madonna statues...weird.

If you look closely you can see the aeroplane shape entrance hole to the mountain.

The Hills

The tractor 'tanks' at Karlovac

Fighter jets and a destroyed building in the background, Karlovac.

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