Authors: Denise Kahn
“Mother!” Valentina called out to Sela, “would you come out here.” Now she was really worried. What was Melina blabbering about? And why was her laughter so bizarre? Did she detect a bit of hysteria and sarcasm in her laugh?
Sela heard her daughter’s voice. Her musician’s ear picked up the note of anguish. She quickly stood up from the piano, subconsciously touched the vase and rushed outside.
“What’s wrong?” Sela asked.
“Why would anything be wrong?” Valentina retorted. Her mother was so damned sharp. Sela just looked at her daughter and went to her granddaughter.
“Oh, my God!” Melina exclaimed, jumping up from her chair. “Rebeka!” She ran to the bush on the side of the house. Valentina and Sela rushed after her, worry etched on their faces. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright,” Melina said, seeing her friend balled up like a snail. “Here, take my hand.” She reached in and gently helped Rebekah out of her cramped position. The girl was incredibly stiff. She hadn’t moved for hours, her face smeared from tears of anguish and fear. She was freezing and shaking. Melina immediately held her and warmed her up.
“Are you alright? Did they hurt you? I heard that bastard slap you,” Rebeka said slowly.
“What bastard? Who slapped you?” Valentina asked.
“Who was here?” Sela asked, with a look that would have killed a mere mortal.
“Gestapo,” Rebeka whispered.
Valentina’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God… What did they do to you?”
“They fed me,” Melina said, smiling.
“Who fed you? Where? Why did they feed you?” Valentina asked.
“Gestapo headquarters.” The older women looked at each other, then took the girls by their hands, and sat them down at the table in the kitchen.
“Speak,” Sela said. She never minced words.
Melina told them of her ordeal.
♫
CHAPTER 29
Nico and the other men arrived at the vessel in the port of Piraeus. It was old, weather-beaten and the colors were faded. They climbed down from the cart and went on board. The captain on the team went below and checked out the engine. He spit on the floor and swore as he realized the shape it was in. Could they even make it to the island? He wondered. He came back up and shouted an order. They immediately started their work. Aleko and the teacher went to the bridge and found what they were looking for: a small suitcase with a radio, old tattered fishermen’s clothes, several rifles, pistols and knives. The doctor prepared the area on the deck to lay the bodies and Nico waited by the cart with the mules. They put their bandanas on their faces once again and went to work.
In the distance German patrols watched them. As they saw their cargo they didn’t pay much attention, just more cadavers, they thought, just victims of war. Each body was painstakingly unloaded until every body was on the boat. No one bothered them. Why would they? The smell alone kept them away. Just a handful of men getting rid of unwanted human waste. They covered the cadavers with blankets and then quickly untied the ropes and pushed the boat off from the pier. They slowly left the port and headed for the open sea. Once far enough out they removed their soiled clothes, threw them overboard and donned the clean ones that had been provided for them. They also took the weapons and hid them under their jackets and in their belts.
Nico sat against the side of the boat and looked at the pitch black horizon in front of him. He was exhausted and shuddered, from the cold and from the memories—mementos of the cadavers staring at him, the ones from the last twenty-four hours, the ones from the trenches in France and the ones from Oniraki. There were no stars, no moon, only deep depressing emptiness, and the blackness mirrored into their hearts as the boat carried them to Crete. Nico took the first watch, the captain was on the bridge and the others slipped into a deep exhausted sleep.
The melon colored sun slowly quivered out of the sea and into the blue-white pastel sky. Nico stared at the sunrise in awe. Why couldn’t all people share in this magnificence, this gift, which the universe majestically bestowed? Why couldn’t everyone see this and mirror it with the same kind of peace and serenity? Nico shook his head and entered into the cabin of the bridge with a mug of coffee for the fisherman who seemed attached to the wheel.
“Kalimera,
I brought you some coffee,” he said, handing the mug to the Captain.
“Ah, I could use some, thank you.” He took it from Nico and carefully drank some of the hot brew. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” He said, tilting his chin up to the horizon in front of him.
“Yes, I was thinking the same thing.” They stared for quite a while without speaking. “How long do you think it will take us,” Nico asked, breaking the silence.
“Well, we could feasibly get there in two days if we had ideal conditions. The weather is supposed to hold out, which is good, but then we have the bloody Germans who will surely check us out…”
“But we’re flying a black flag,” the teacher interrupted. He was standing in the doorway, also drinking a cup of coffee.
“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean they won’t come aboard. You know how meticulous those bastards are.”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” the doctor said to the group.
“Good morning to you, Doctor,” the teacher said.
“What else?” Nico asked the fisherman.
“The engine is a piece of shit and the boat is like a grand, but tired, old lady.
“How do you mean?” The teacher asked.
The seaman laughed. “She was once beautiful and full of color,” he explained, “she used to dance on the water and bob flirtatiously among the other boats, showing off her enthusiasm and spirit. Now she just floats, dreary and tired, remembering her youth. If she likes us maybe she’ll honor us one more time and show off her splendor, or maybe her patriotic heart will hold up for one last hurrah and she’ll push herself to please us. But if she’s having a bad day we might just have to swim and pull the old lady to the island.”
“You’re quite the philosopher,” the teacher said.
“Hey, I’m Greek, what do you expect? Also, I’ve been praying to the
Panayia
of Tinos. I promised the Madonna that if she brings us in safe and sound, I will visit her and pay my respects.”
“Just like the Captain of the vessel with the hole in his hull during a storm,” the teacher said.
“Yes,” Nico added, “She answered his prayers. A dolphin came and squeezed himself into the hole and the crew made it back alive.”
“That’s right, and you can see a replica of the vessel and the dolphin sticking out of the hole in gold hanging from the ceiling in the church in Tinos,” the teacher added.
“Well, I am a man of science,” the doctor said, “but if we make it out alive by the end of this damn war I suggest we all go to Tinos together and thank her personally. We can use all the help we can get!”
“It’s a deal,” they said, and slapped each other on the back.
Later that afternoon the teacher was closing up his wireless radio. Nico came up behind him.
“Anything?” Nico asked.
The teacher nodded. “Everything is still on schedule. We’re right on the money.”
Nico laughed. “That we are. You couldn’t have said it better, my friend…” They were interrupted by a shout and then a string of curses from the Captain on the bridge. They ran to see what was wrong.
“What is it?” Aleko asked.
“Over there,” he pointed, “a German patrol boat.”
They watched the vessel come closer. They swore bitterly and the fisherman spat on the floor. The doctor moved first. He produced a small glass bottle from his pocket and gave it to Nico. “Drink this quickly and go sit against the side of the boat close to the bodies.
“What is it?”
“An emetic.”
“You want me throw up?”
“Yes, on cue.”
“What? How? When?”
“Ah, Nico, you ask too many questions. You’ll know.”
“Everybody move! Spread out around the boat and try to relax. Don’t let them see your weapons, and say a prayer.” They did as Aleko asked.
Nico drank the liquid. It burned his throat and he swore it was making a hole in his stomach. The potent liquid was already working. He cursed and wanted to vomit but held it back. His face became wet with perspiration and he had all he could do not to take his jacket off from the feverish heat. He kept it on. It covered his weapon.
The patrol boat came closer. They saw the faces of the German sailors and the
Kapitän
shouted in his bullhorn: “STOP YOUR ENGINES. WE ARE COMING ABOARD.” Aleko swore, his hand feeling the gun in his belt. The Captain stopped the engine. They rocked on the sea and waited. The teacher looked at their faces, all young men doing their duty for the
Vaterland.
Brainwashed little fools, he thought.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THESE WATERS?” The bullhorn bellowed.
The fisherman stuck his head out of the bridge.
“Kalimera,
good day to you. We are carrying dead bodies to bury at sea.”
The German Captain grimaced and looked up. He saw the black flag. “Are they diseased?”
Nico was right on cue. He stood up and violently retched over the side of the boat making sure everyone from the German vessel saw him. The sailors grumbled, disgusted, and dreaded the prospect of having to board the death boat. Nico vomited again and again. The doctor smiled inwardly and apologized silently to Nico.
The Greek man looked at his German counterpart and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe he ate something bad, or it is from the decomposing bodies.”
The German thought about blowing the fishing boat out of the water and drowning whatever disease was on board but then changed his mind.
”LOS, AB!”
He shouted to his crew, let’s get out of here!” The vessel turned around and left. The Greek crew waived, except for Nico who didn’t have the strength. When the patrol boat was far enough away they went to him.
“What the hell was that shit, gunpowder?” Nico asked, still a little breathless. The skin on his face was a pale lime green.
“Here, drink some of this,” the doctor said, handing him a glass.
Nico shook his head. “I will never take another drink from you again!”
“No, no, it’s alright, it will make you feel better.” Nico glared at him. “Please, I promise.”
Nico reluctantly took the glass, stared at the yellowish substance, sniffed it and drank it all. Nico smiled. “You make a good lemonade,” he said, feeling better already. The other men laughed. Nico was his old self again.
It was quiet, too quiet, Nico thought.
Aleko walked up to him. “Something’s not right,” he said.
“I was thinking that very same thing. It’s too damned quiet, even if we are out at sea,” Nico said.
“Exactly,” Aleko murmured, “and we are very close to Crete. The Captain has done a remarkable job. We are almost at the very tip of the western side of the island.”
They were right. No sooner had they finished speaking that an explosion resounded in the distance. Flames and fire erupted and shot up into the black sky. Suddenly it was yellow, orange and red and the darkness couldn’t hide the eruption of a vessel sporting a British flag.
“STARBOARD! STARBOARD!” Aleko shouted to the fisherman, “head south, head for Egypt!” The Captain immediately obeyed.
“To Egypt?” Nico asked
“Yes,” the teacher said, coming up beside them. Crete is completely occupied by the Germans. I was just on the radio. We wouldn’t accomplish anything by landing there. On the contrary, they would pick us up in no time.”
“But will the boat hold out?”
“Pray,” Aleko said.
“I’ll do that,” Nico answered, “I suggest we head for Alexandria.”
“Why Alexandria?”
“I have a contact,” Nico said, remembering Sela’s last words.
“Good.” Aleko relayed the information to the rest of the crew. He thought about Nico. The man had been compliant throughout the entire mission and now maybe his talents were coming into play and understood why he was part of this team. At first he didn’t want him along. Each one of them was a specialist in his field: the boat captain with his expertise as a navigator and connoisseur of the Aegean; the doctor with his knowledge of bodies and strange vomiting remedies; the teacher who’s hobby had been a HAM operator and was proficient in communications; himself of course, an engineer, mechanic and the head of the operation. And Nico. All he had had been told was that he was indispensable during the first world war, spoke several languages like a native and was brilliant at getting out of sticky situations. It hadn’t been enough to convince him, but then there had been that one word—contact.
That same day, King George of the Hellenes, his family, and several Ministers who had been evacuated from Athens to Crete, were evacuated once more. They left the island and headed toward Egypt as well. Thanks to the explosion and the pursuit of the politicians and Royals, the crew of the little boat had a better chance of passing undetected.
The next two days were calm. They weren’t bothered by any patrols, the weather was good and the old little boat kept grinding along, yet it was nerve wracking.
“How far to Alexandria?” Aleko asked the Captain.
“One more night. Tomorrow we should be there. Hopefully her heart will hold up for one last journey.”
“Captain,” Nico said, “look at the sky. Are we getting bad wheather?”
The fisherman nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. Tell everybody to tie everything down, we’re getting a meltemi, an Aegean storm,” he said, swearing under his breath. The men swiftly followed the orders and then waited.
True to his prediction, the darkness of the night descended on them very quickly, and then the sky let its ominous black clouds explode over them. They churned up the wind and made the little boat dance uncontrollably. The waves became bigger, smashed into them and made them bounce around as if they were in an abandoned dinghy. The captain held on to the wheel with every muscle in his body, barely controlling the boat. Another wave hit them head on so hard that it smashed the glass of the bridge in front of him. The windshield exploded into pieces. Nico screamed as he witnessed the seaman go down with a large triangular shard sticking out of his throat. He yelled for the doctor and ran to the small wheelhouse. They arrived together and found the captain on the floor. Nico watched the doctor who was trying to stop the bleeding. He grimaced back at Nico. The prognosis was not good. Nico grabbed the wheel and held it as best he could. He followed the compass and prayed as he never had before. The doctor looked up at him. He shook his head. Nico swore. The fisherman was dead.
The men held on through the long hours of the night. They were constantly thrown in every direction possible, whipped by an invisible giant hand that kept punishing them, battering them over and over incessantly. Nico thought this would be his last moments. He kept forcing himself to think that they would survive, that they wouldn’t let their country or their families down, that they would succeed. They must succeed! He kept repeating to himself again and again. They had a responsibility to fulfill, and by God, he swore, nothing would stop them. He said prayers to all the Gods, all the Saints he could remember. He dug deep into his memory to remember all the deities from all the books he had read. He prayed to Kali and Vishnu, to Buddha and Quan Yin, to Allah and Mohammed and even to Athena, Apollo and Poseidon—especially Poseidon.