At least a hundred people gathered in the village square in front of the administration building. All entirely bearded men from thirty to forty years old, in NATO camouflage without insignia. Neither women nor children were visible among them. Each of those present had a machine gun hanging over their shoulder. They chatted merrily among themselves and, swallowing saliva, cast greedy glances first at the prisoners, then at the huge fire, near which four hefty skewers lay in a row.