There were no celebrations in this besieged city Tuesday night following the announcement of a peace plan for the former Yugoslavian republic.

No dancing in the streets. No tickertape parades.Only a few gunshots fired into the air and a few toasts.

At the home of Mustafa and Nediha Bajraktarevic, the mood was subdued but emotional as Nediha and her 17-year-old son Almir watched President Clinton's speech on TV, along with two neighbors.

When Clinton finished, the four stood and embraced each other, then applauded quietly. Almir smiled, flashed a peace sign and said "mir," the Bosnian word for peace.

Nediha, whose sister is a refugee living in Utah's "Little Bosnia," began crying. "The war has been very hard," she says, shaking her head and gesturing to describe the artillery shelling that the city has suffered for nearly four years.

One large artillery round landed in front of their apartment building in February 1993. Shrapnel shattered every window on the east-facing side and took big chunks from the outer walls. Another piece of shrapnel narrowly missed Almir, 17, who was watching TV at the time.

The Bajraktarevic family and their neighbors are beyond being weary of the war, which has killed and maimed tens of thousands of Sarajevans.

Samir Desdarekiv, in his early 30s, was hit by a mortar blast last June. He now walks with crutches and carries grotesque and extensive scars on his back, stomach and arm.

Desdarekiv is wary of the peaceplan, saying the Serbs are difficult to deal with and have a bad history of not honoring countless previous cease-fires.

That history is precisely the reason Sarajevans are forgoing any big celebrations. Their city, after all, remained under siege Wednesday morning. United Nations troops still patrolled the area heavily. Bosnian and U.N. police maintained strict control on citizen movement.

And people continued to avoid spending much time in areas made infamous by Serb snipers, who have killed thousands of Sarajevo civilians from their holdings a few hundred meters from the city center.

"We still can't firmly believe in (the peace plan) because there are many agreements before, and we went again and again into many terrifying situations," says Jasna Vidovic, a 47-year-old electrical engineer who is part Serb and part Croat but considers herself a "citizen of the world."

Though Vidovic remembers the day the war started, she's not sure she'll memorize when the peace plan was signed.

"Maybe I'll remember this day, but now I can't permit myself to expect too much."

With the exception of Vidovic, everyone interviewed by the Deseret News in Sarajevo Wednesday said the peace plan stands no chance without a strong U.S. presence.

"(Clinton) has to send troops," said Capt. Aamir Bham, a U.N. peacekeeper from Pakistan. "With no Americans here, I don't think peace is possible."