Ibrahim S. ĆIŠIĆ 

IBRAHIM IBRO ĆIŠIĆ, son of SALIH SALKO, born on June 17, 1920, in Mostar, former student of the Islamic Gymnasium and the Trade Academy in Sarajevo, later employed at the Coal Mine in Mostar. Official, member of SKOJ since 1939 and the Communist Party of Yugoslavia since 1940. Joined the Battalion in May 1942, serving as a political delegate of the platoon. Transferred in November 1942 to the 1st Battalion of the 10th Herzegovina Brigade. Killed in Mudrike near Travnik in January 1943. According to Fadil Buturović, executed for disobedience. His younger brother Remzija and cousin Alija also died in the People’s Liberation War. His other brother Hilmija, a fighter, survived the war. A street in Mostar bears the name of the Ćišić brothers.

According to the archives of Radmilo Braca Andrić, the remains of Ibrahim Ćišić were transferred and buried in the Partisan Memorial Cemetery in Mostar.

Excerpt from Literature (memories of Fadil Buturović):

“There were stories about books, recitations of poems by poets born in Brankovac: “Đaurka lijepa” by Osman Đikić and “Emina” by Aleksa Šantić, “Poletarka” by Svetozar Čorović… The guitar would play, accompanied by the beautiful voice of Ibro Ćišić: “… Sonja, your black hair / I’ve kissed countless times in my dreams…”, the guitar lamented over the fate of the exiles in the desolate Siberian wastelands, it spoke of a knife in the heart of an unfaithful beloved woman, of the endless love of a killer-exile: “…I can’t forget you / You flower from the valleys of the Volga…”

“(…) Ibro trained us for inter-mahala competitions in jumping off the cliffs of the Neretva River. His voice (“… puff out your chest, suck in your stomach, kick your legs high, high…”) still echoes in my ears. I see him, absorbed in his efforts to prepare us as best as possible for the competition of jumping on our feet and on our heads from the Bunur Rapids…”

“Gostina Šuma (…), that is the clearing above the eastern part of the city, above Dronja and the Orthodox church, one of the slopes of Velež – known to the city residents, especially children, as a grim and always dark abode of giants and witches, known and unknown snakes, among them the most dangerous – the horned viper. Whoever enters and comes out unharmed, with reason and consciousness, has passed the test of bravery. He is pointed at with a finger. Ibro belonged to those people. He finally relented and took me one day, at my persistent requests and pleas, to hunt the horned viper – we needed money (three dinars – a rubber ball!). The Health Center bought the captured horned vipers (four dinars each!). Poison was extracted from them for medicine… I witnessed Ibro’s struggle with the viper. On Ibro’s signal, I saw it, merged with the branch on which it lay. The horned viper! It sensed us, raised itself, lifting its upper body with its head, remaining motionless for a moment or two, an eternity – immobile, focused on Ibro, the certain victim. It hissed, almost inaudibly. Its thin, long tongue flickered, crossing over its elongated jaws, threatening. They observed each other, waiting, measuring who would make the first move. I stood breathless – terrified or amazed by the unique sight of the clash between life and death… I saw the hunter’s sudden swift jump. The snake’s head pressed against the forked stick. The thin, long tongue, jaws wide open, making a final effort to reach the prey, the slender, smooth body flailing from side to side in an attempt to free itself from the firm grip of the attacker. Ibro captured the prey by its head, with a practiced movement, and placed it in a jar.”

About Ibro’s demise.

“(…) the five of them from Mostar: Ibro, Lebro Brkić, Alija Puzić, Drago Knežić, and Hamda Žuljević were assigned to the brigade as “students” to assist the commissioner and political delegates… They stuck together like brothers; they endured hunger and hardships like the rest… Daily battles were fought. The brigade fought its way, breaking the resistance of the Domobrans, Germans, Chetniks, and other enemies; gunfire was daily from all sides… A quarrel broke out; they say it was over nothing; they cursed, and Corporal Ibro, Ibro cursed the corporal three times – they talked about it later… Ibro took hold of his rifle, loaded it – the fighters jumped. The corporal threatened – he would show him his God! The commander arrived, listened to the story, and ordered Ibro to be tied up. (…) They tried Ibro swiftly. That’s the law, they said, when judgments are made during the course of battle… They took Ibro behind the rocks. A voice was heard – they claim Ibro was saluting victory, communism, revolution. A gunshot echoed.”