accutane buy In battles over the following days, Muslim soldiers from the villages around Srebrenica linked their territories and the injured could finally be evacuated to a central location for treatment. Dr. D?ani? reinaugurated Srebrenica Hospital. One by one, the handful of physicians who remained in the area returned to work there. Branka Stani?, a blond Croat general practitioner who lived in Switzerland, had been visiting her family here when the war broke out and trapped her. Avdo Hasanovi? was an older pediatrician who’d taken over as hospital director just before the war. Chubby Ejub Ali?, whom Ilijaz had known since high school, moved back to Srebrenica from Potoc?ari. His sixty-five-year-old father had also died recently. The month after the war started, the village beside Ali?ihad been captured and set alight by Chetniks. Ejub’s parents and sister had run from their house into the forest, as shells, which they judged to be coming from across the Drina in Serbia, exploded around them. Ejub’s father fell to the ground in the wake of a powerful detonation—dead of unknown cause, perhaps a heart attack, with no signs of a mortal injury. When he arrives from the hospital, workers bring him hot water to wash off the day’s blood and grime. By the light from a small generator—a special luxury for the doctor—he types his day’s medical notes. They anticipate a difficult operation, and tension pervades the operating room. Nedret knows he has to work quickly in order to minimize blood loss. Instruments fly from hand to hand. Voices rise. The patient grimaces and, with an aggressive expression, starts to lift himself from the table like Frankenstein’s monster. The bandage holding his left arm snaps.