DANCING AT THE BRINK

By JAMES O. JACKSON BRUSSELS

There is something perverse about springtime in the former Yugoslavia: it is when men make war, not love. Now, as the cold weather eases in the fifth year of Balkan fighting, Serbs and Croats are unlimbering their guns for what American diplomats fear could turn into an all-out Balkan war.

The provocateur this time is Croatia's President, Franjo Tudjman, who announced in January that the 12,000 United Nations peacekeepers patrolling the cease-fire line along the Serb-occupied Croatian region of Krajina must leave the country beginning March 31, when the U.N. mandate expires. The soldiers have managed to keep the peace in Croatia since being deployed there in the beginning of 1992, but Tudjman has concluded that they mainly serve to protect the Serbs' hold on Krajina. If the troops depart, there will be nothing to prevent the 105,000-man Croatian army and 40,000 Krajina Serbs--all heavily armed--from resuming their war.

That, Western officials fear, would jeopardize the safety of U.N. forces in neighboring Bosnia, reignite the fighting there and set off a general conflagration that could bring Serbia directly into the war. The consequences of the U.N. withdrawal "could trigger the most dangerous situation Europe has seen since 1945," says Richard Holbrooke, the U.S. Assistant Secretary of State who is leading the effort to keep the U.N. forces in place.

He had better hurry. Both Croatian and Krajina Serb forces are preparing to fight the moment the U.N. soldiers depart--or worse, even before they go. Croatia and Muslim-led Bosnia last week signed a military alliance intended to squeeze the Krajina and Bosnian Serbs. The Serbs, in turn, are digging in. "It is abundantly clear that military forces on both sides of the zone of separation are deepening their defensive positions," says Yasushi Akashi, the U.N. special representative in the region. Both sides are building bunkers, cutting trenches and moving heavy weapons into offensive positions.

The U.N. pullout itself could blow up into a multinational nightmare involving U.S. troops on the ground. U.S.-backed plans for safely removing the 12,000 U.N. peacekeepers call for deploying 50,000 NATO troops, about half of them American. Pentagon officials say they would send units of NATO's Rapid Reaction Corps to join U.S. Marines and carrier-based aircraft to assist with the pullout. About half the U.S. contingent would actually go ashore, a prospect that appalls some congressional leaders. "Despite all the rhetoric that we would not have troops on the ground, they will be on the ground," complains Republican Senator Richard Lugar of Indiana. Nearly as worrisome to Congress is the price tag for bringing the U.N. mission home: $1 billion or more, according to a Pentagon estimate, much of which will be borne by the U.S.

Clearly, the best solution would be to renew the U.N. mandate so the peacekeepers can stay right where they are. Croatia objects on the ground that their presence merely legitimizes a Serbian occupation of Krajina, stealing away 27% of Croatian soil. "If we let the U.N. stay forever, we'll have another Cyprus, and that's unacceptable," says Tudjman's spokesman, Jozo Curic.

Under intense pressure from the U.S., Tudjman finally seems to be reconsidering his eviction notice. TIME has obtained a White House document outlining the tentative agreement Holbrooke has reached with the Croatian leader, which the American envoy hopes to nail down as soon as possible.

According to the document, classified secret, the U.S. and Croatia have reached "'understandings for a new international presence'' in Croatia. Tudjman will allow the U.N. contingent to stay at least until June 30, by which time it must be scaled back to 5,000, who can remain until Sept. 15. In return, Washington is prepared to give Tudjman a say in who makes up the new force and what it will be called. Because he publicly vowed to remove the old force, dubbed UNPROFOR, a different name will allow the Croatian leader to save face. Whereas Tudjman wanted the peacekeepers replaced by NATO soldiers, Washington has agreed only that a "separate Croatia-only'' force would be made up of units "from countries mutually agreed between Croatia and the Security Council." The new mission would also control 25 to 30 main crossing points along Croatia's international border with Bosnia and Serbia, as Tudjman wants.

The key to a settlement may be Tudjman's vanity. The 72-year-old Croat yearns to be recognized as a world statesman--not a mere regional warlord--and he has a chance to play that role this week in a visit to Washington. In public, the State Department is providing him with a place of honor during ceremonies marking the first anniversary of a Croat-Muslim federation in Bosnia.

But in private, U.S. officials say, Holbrooke and others are warning him of the consequences if he goes ahead with the expulsion. "Tudjman was under the impression that he had a friend in the West, and that we would come in if things fell apart," says a State Department official. Holbrooke, the official says, "let him know that the West is not going to get involved if events lead to a Serbo-Croatian war. If it got really nasty, we would implement sanctions." But until a real settlement can be found, the abyss will always be there.

--Reported by Sandra Burton, Douglas Waller, Mark Thompson/Washington, Barbara Rudolph/New York and Alexandra Stiglmayer/Zagreb

With reporting by SANDRA BURTON, DOUGLAS WALLER, MARK THOMPSON/WASHINGTON, BARBARA RUDOLPH/NEW YORK AND ALEXANDRA STIGLMAYER/ZAGREB