Secret Sardinia– a story of sickness, secrecy and cover-up ...

Sardinia is an island cut in two. Along the white beach-studded Costa Smeralda, a magnet for the rich and famous, a villa can fetch close to $150 million.

"That house is owned by the head of Volkwagen," says realtor Lorenzo Camillo as he takes reporter Emma Alberici for a sail on his yacht. "Ah there we are - there's the famous Berlusconi villa."

But more than a third of Sardinia – including much of its waters – is off limits to locals and visitors, whatever their celebrity. This area is controlled by the Italian military, rented out for some of the world's biggest war games and home to Europe's biggest bomb test site.

This has many locals riled. "Islands, little islands have disappeared, erased by missiles shot from the land, the sky and the sea," says former Sardinian president Mauro Pili.

Pili has also recorded the destruction of some of Sardinia's unique nuraghe - turret-like stone Bronze Age structures built some 3500 years ago – by test bombs.

But it's not cultural vandalism or restricted movement that most concerns Sardinians. In areas near the test sites, there have been high rates of cancers, birth defects and early death.

Giancarlo Piras recalls what the doctor said when his son Francesco, who had served as a soldier at a bombing range, got pancreatic cancer at age 27: "By any chance has your son been in contact with radioactive material?"

Children were born with deformities including missing limbs. In one village in one year, one in four new born babies had some kind of defect. Sheep grazing on the test sites gave birth to grotesquely twisted lambs. Their shepherds too had phenomenally high rates of cancer.

Tissue samples from man and beast showed high levels of a highly toxic material used in many bomb tests. "The longer they lived in the area, the higher the quantity," a nuclear physicist tells Alberici.

As public pressure grew for a full accounting, the military pushed back. "If they didn't want us to see something they wouldn't show it to us. They feared we could find something unusual," says an MP who headed a parliamentary inquiry.

Generals went on the front foot, blaming people's illnesses on close inbreeding. With much fanfare, they announced a scientific inquiry. But as Alberici reports, evidence shows they nobbled it.

Can you imagine your favourite footy team getting to a game in an armoured personnel carrier? Ever been to a match where the visiting team's fans are banned?

Such is the fear and violence infecting "the beautiful game" in our near neighbour Indonesia.

Indonesia is like, insane – Marko Simic, Croatian playing for Jakarta's team Persija

Riot cops with automatic weapons are as much fixtures as goal posts. Brawling is the norm among the militias of fans and their commanders. Rumours of match-fixing swirl, fuelling crowd anger.

Everyone wants to watch the game - but then you see the enemy and then you fight – Andibachtiar Yusuf, filmmaker and Persija Jakarta fan

About 75 fans have been killed in soccer violence in the past 25 years. In a recent eight-month period, 16 died.Thousands more have been injured.

He never asked for trouble. He was just watching a game – mother of 23-year-old Ari, Jakarta Persija fan who was beaten to death by dozens of Bandung supporters

When fights erupt amid flashes of smoke flares and thunder of drums, games are stopped mid-way. Recently the entire league competition was suspended for a fortnight.

It's got so bad that some football fans are prepared to see the game shut down indefinitely.

Football in Indonesia has become a graveyard, not entertainment. Supporters' lives should never be sacrificed for our love of football – Akmal Marhali, head of NGO Save our Soccer

Correspondent David Lipson immerses himself among "Jakmania" - the Persija Jakarta fans who are as fiery as any in Indonesia - in their race for the championship title. His quest is to understand what drives such violence in a mostly Muslim nation that forswears alcohol.

The word "amok" originates from this part of the world and was first recorded in the 17th century. It resonates today. In Running Amok, Lipson explores a fundamentalist fandom that's become the ugly face of football Indonesian-style.