Winter in Bosnia was a special level of suck cranked up on hydraulic jacks. The snow and ice there are no colder or deeper or more slippery than anywhere else in the world: it was just maybe that the Bosnian national gloom, already resting comfortably in a notable trough, enhanced the common misery.
Look-angles, which offered tactical convenience to the front entrance view of his alleged flat in Zvornik, were so scarce, if any. This was a major frustration.
Ah, but putting one foot outside of the box we found that the backside of his flat gave way to a security wall, large expanses of open fields and hills of evergreen woodland. Vinko Pandurević’s flat was a second-floor affair, and we wagered that the hills could give us enough altitude to get a mother-decency of a look-angle with some spirited sniper glass.