Albanians tire of U.S. troops in Kosovo

                   By Steven Komarow, USA TODAY

                   UROSEVAC, Yugoslavia - Sgt. Jeremiah Goodpaster has seen incredible
                   change in the nearly three months since he arrived here in Kosovo with the
                   82nd Airborne Division.

                   Ransacked shops have reopened and now overflow with goods from
                   jewelry to lingerie to chunky shoes that would be right at home in a
                   California shopping mall. Cafes are crowded late into the night. Cars and
                   trucks clog the main arteries.

                   But along with that prosperity, the troops have seen a growing resentment
                   - toward them. Ethnic Albanians who once threw flowers at the U.S.
                   convoys now rarely even wave.

                   The honeymoon is over.

                   "As time's wore on, you've seen people giving us dirty looks," says
                   Goodpaster, 22, of Phoenix, as he stands guard outside a vandalized
                   Serbian Orthodox church. Young, frustrated Albanian men come up and
                   ask him, "Why don't you let us attack the Serbs?"

                   "I tell them the war's over. We're trying to prepare for the future,"
                   Goodpaster said.

                   But there are competing visions of the future at work in Kosovo. And the
                   Western version of a multiethnic society where people of different religions
                   live as neighbors doesn't necessarily square with that of Albanian Muslims
                   bent on revenge.

                   The ethnic Albanians say that the Serbs helped Yugoslav leader Slobodan
                   Milosevic in his attempt to remove all ethnic Albanians from the Yugoslav
                   province. NATO stopped the ethnic cleansing effort by inflicting airstrikes
                   on Yugoslavia for 78 days this spring.

                   Finally, Milosevic withdrew his troops from Kosovo. The Albanians began
                   returning, and the Serbs began fleeing their retribution.

                   International peacekeeping forces, including Americans, moved in to try to
                   resolve the ethnic differences between the Serb and Albanian populations.
                   But old ethnic and religious rivalries mean little to the U.S. troops stationed
                   here. Goodpaster and his squad don't even know the name of the church
                   they're guarding.

                   The Albanians see the Cathedral of St. Uros as a symbol of the Serbian
                   state and made several failed attempts to burn it before the U.S. troops
                   began their vigil. While the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), the dominant
                   ethnic Albanian organization, has assured NATO of cooperation, the
                   retribution against the Serbs continues with clear complicity from the
                   general population.

                   All vestiges of Serb domination are targets, including the name Urosevac.
                   The Albanians call the city Ferizaj and have painted over road signs that
                   carried both versions. Beyond the symbolism is action. On one recent
                   night patrol, American troops pulled up to a burning home near
                   downtown. They said it was typical. The Serbs who lived in it fled weeks
                   ago, and the Albanians are making sure they don't come back. A girl
                   pointed at the fire as her grandfather chuckled. It was clearly arson, and
                   no one tried to put it out. When the troops asked who started the blaze, a
                   man pointed to a power line.

                   Two blocks away, Lubica and Angelko Stankovic are prisoners in their
                   home, where they've lived for 38 years. U.S. soldiers guard the street
                   around the clock, as they do at a dozen Serb sites around the city.

                   Serbs have long been a minority in Urosevac, but "before this war, it was
                   not bad," Lubica Stankovic says. Now, she has told her two grown
                   children to stay away. A few Albanian friends bring food and make it
                   possible for her and her husband to remain, she says.

                   She and other Serbs may soon be forced to leave. NATO commanders
                   say they can't guard individual Serbs indefinitely. Instead, the troops might
                   focus on those towns, including several in the sector of Kosovo that U.S.
                   troops guard, where there are still major Serb populations.

                   Protecting the Serbs who remain in Kosovo is a central part of NATO's
                   mission. Most of perhaps 200,000 Serbs in Kosovo before the war have
                   left. Without intervention, the rest would follow, and Kosovo would
                   become the all-Albanian Muslim state that NATO doesn't want. But it is a
                   difficult and dangerous task.

                   If the only problem were the KLA, the allies say they'd have a better
                   chance. The KLA, the rebel group that fought on the ground against the
                   Serbs during NATO's air attacks, has agreed to a series of controls over
                   its force.

                   "The biggest threat now is the sort of Mafia," says British Maj. Adrian
                   Griffith, of the 1st Battalion of the Royal Gurkha Rifles. "They get Serbs to
                   leave, not because they don't like Serbs but so they can get their property.

                   "We're spending an awful lot of our reserves protecting them," he says.

                   But the Albanians have little appreciation for that mission. And as NATO
                   increasingly gets in the way of drug smuggling and other criminal
                   enterprises indigenous to Kosovo, its troops may be targeted. Gunfights
                   already have occurred. Only luck and a good quality helmet deflected a
                   sniper's bullet and prevented the first U.S. combat casualty a few weeks
                   ago. The sniper was not caught.

                   Among the difficult milestones ahead is the Sept. 19 deadline for the KLA
                   to put away its guns and uniforms. The KLA has been turning in dozens of
                   weapons in good faith. But the flow of new weapons into Kosovo,
                   especially across the porous border with Albania, continues at a busy
                   pace. Some troops view the KLA as the enemy. Others have seen how
                   dangerous the hatreds in Kosovo can be.

                   Sgt. Alexander Besch said that on his second day here, he saw a pile of
                   bones and smelled the stench of death. "That was a reality check," he said.
                   Yet he is optimistic. "You see the kids smile, you see the kids play. You
                   feel good about what you're doing," he said. "Slowly but surely, this place
                   will rebound. It may take a couple of years."