The Balkans' Next Domino?

Sending a stream of bullets into the sky at 10:05 p.m. on Tuesday, a lone army gunner manning an antiaircraft gun in the heart of Podgorica opened up on NATO planes flying over Montenegro toward targets in Kosovo and Serbia. An hour later explosions from a NATO retaliatory raid rocked the city. Almost immediately, a cacophony filled the night. It wasn't air-raid sirens or the wails of the wounded, but the ringing of mobile phones. "Who cares about bombing! Is this the coup?" worried government officials asked one another.

It wasn't the coup, but the fear of a government tumble is on everyone's lips. For most it is no longer a question of if but when. Though Montenegro is linked to Serbia by a federal agreement, the state was slowly inching toward democracy--something most locals think Slobodan Milosevic wants to end. Already the streets are kind of pre-battlegrounds, where soldiers loyal to Milosevic vie with police for strategic positions, each nervously waiting for the spark that will make them turn their guns on one another. Political leaders are scrambling to get their families out.

At government offices there is confusion. Some ministers believe NATO will intervene to help; others argue that the alliance is far too divided to rescue such a small province. Milosevic is starting to turn up the pressure. He has issued a draft order for all battle-age Montenegrins, and his promises that no locals would be sent to Kosovo have been abandoned. Trees along boulevards now sprout the death notices of local soldiers killed in Kosovo. A civil war here would surely bring the dying closer to home.