Authors: Denise Kahn
“What the hell is this? Why should I get in this hole? There’s a war going on!”
“Because we need you alive, you are very important to us,” Costas said, almost lovingly, “and we do not want your blood spilled in Greece. Now, please, get in!” He said, gently pushing him along. William gave in to Costas, jumped into the hole, mainly because he did not want to hurt this leader’s feelings and because he understood that these people had come to love and respect him. It would be a love affair with Greece and the Greeks that would last William’s entire lifetime.
Costas left. William was in
his
hole when he started laughing. He was safe, except for one thing—his head was sticking out. The hole had been dug for a short Greek man, not a tall American. He made the best of it as he watched the skirmish in front of him. An hour later it was over. Several men from both sides had been killed. William squeezed himself out and went to the camp. He watched as the Greeks debated what to do with three German soldiers.
“I say we kill them,” Costas said.
“But they are prisoners,” Nico countered.
“They are soldiers and certainly aware of the possibilities of death. Besides, we don’t have enough supplies for ourselves, let alone prisoners. What would you like to do with them? Drag them around with us? Tell them to be still while we are fighting? We don’t have a prisoner of war camp.”
Nico still did not agree. “I understand what you’re saying, but there are rules in war, humanitarian rules.”
“I promise they will be executed humanely.”
“Costas, think about it,” William said, “the Germans will retaliate.”
“So we will give them some of their own medicine.”
William also realized that the Greeks were stubborn. They shot the prisoners.
True to their reputation the Germans retaliated. They bombed the villages from the air, brutalized the villagers, killed some of them and issued a warning: For every German killed fifty Greeks would die. They spoke to the Monks at the monastery who were to become the negotiators between the two sides, but little did they know that later that afternoon when they were led to the top of a cliff by the German soldiers. The Monks were made to jump to their deaths.
Costas was beside himself. He was raging.
“Humanitarian you called it! Eh, Nico, they murdered the priests, men of cloth! Men who had been nothing but kind to everyone and anyone, men who gave of themselves and never hurt a soul. Now they’re at the bottom of the gorge like discarded filthy rags. They will pay for this!” Costas ranted on and kicked everything around him. After a while he calmed down and spoke to Nico and William. “I want you two out of here. I want you to go to the Allies and get more help. I want you to tell them what kind of filth we are dealing with. If anyone can do it, you can. I already talked to Aleko, he wants to stay here with us and fight.”
“We’ll leave now,” William said. “I’ll send more help.” Nico and William said goodbye to the guerillas.
Nico hugged Rebeka. “Do you want to come with us?” He asked her.
“No, but thank you. It would be too dangerous, besides, I’ve found my place,” she said, turning her gaze to Costas.
Nico smiled. “Be safe, little one. I hope this will be over soon and you can have a wonderful life with your man. Take care of each other.”
“We’ll try. Thanks for everything again, and you be careful too.”
Nico nodded and turned away, sadly marveling that Rebeka had grown into a tough adult much too quickly.
“God be with you,” Costas said.
William and Nico left in the jeep and crossed the mountains. More than once they were spotted, more than once the bullets flew by their faces and more than once they made it through alive. Nico was constantly amazed at the tenacity and the focus of the Amerikanós. He never seemed to lose control. His nerves were made of steel and every once in a while his sense of humor surprised him. He was a man’s man, and he had no doubt that with his good looks quite a lady’s man as well. He admired and respected him immensely.
True to his word Costas and the Resistance retaliated, rounded up prisoners, shot them and threw them over the same cliff where the monks had been killed. The Germans couldn’t stop the guerillas, nor could they find them and the next day they rounded up the villagers of Kalavrita. They separated the men and the boys over twelve on one side and the women and smaller children on another side. The fathers kissed their children and wives, held back tears and walked heads low to a field. They were made to sit and watch helplessly as they burned the town, watched their lives and everything they owned and worked for go up in mad clouds of black smoke. All they had left were the memories of what once was. They watched for hours. By the end of the afternoon an order was shouted and the hidden machine guns opened fire. They were all shot and their broken bodies fell in what was quickly becoming a field of ugly crimson. A few survived, but the soldiers went around and shot the ones still living. A total of over 1300 men and boys were slaughtered. When the soldiers finished, they marched off singing. The women of the town were made to dig their graves.
A few days later, most of the women and small children were ordered into the church, the monastery of Aghia Lavra, where the flag of independence was first raised in 1821. The doors were locked behind them. They waited, wailing and crying, not knowing what fate awaited them. An order was shouted and the soldiers set fire to the church and left. The flames engulfed the outer walls. They were to be burned alive and the monastery reduced to ashes. A young German soldier, who couldn’t bring himself to take part in the massacre rushed to the doors, unlocked them and told the women to escape. They grabbed their children and ran into the hills and to safety. The soldier was shot.
After the war, a silver
kandili,
a votive, was placed in the church for every person who perished and a gold one for the young blond German who gave his life to save so many.
♫
CHAPTER 34
Nico and William said goodbye. They had traveled and fought side by side for many days and saved each other’s lives more than once. Nico regarded the younger man as a son and William was grateful to have inherited the love of a father. The two men spent a great deal of time together and when they hadn’t been dodging bullets or fleeing from their enemies they would be huddled in some safe spot. And they talked. For the first time William opened up all the pent up emotions and pain he had inherited from his father, related his bi-continent childhood and arduous adolescent years. Nico, too, told him about his own painful memories, about the difficult journey from Oniraki and to the place he now was at, the loss of his family’s fortune and the women in his life he adored. Each man was fascinated by their stories and grateful for the other’s presence in their lives. They respected each other, and their bond would be like none other they would ever know. It was as if a missing piece of their lives had been found.
They knew the end of the war was near. The time had come to part ways and to follow their respective paths. When the moment came to say goodbye they embraced and cried as only a father and son could. They promised to find each other after the war.
William headed out to find where the Americans were. Nico’s objective was to make his way to Athens and his family. He started walking; there was no other way. He stayed hidden from the occupiers and traveled during the cool nights. The days were too hot and much too dangerous. The Germans were everywhere, but the atmosphere had changed. They knew they were beaten, and were scurrying out of the country. As they did, they killed anyone they came across. They too were scared; death lurked around them as well. Nico kept walking, crawling, hiding. He was exhausted, but he kept on marching toward Athens. He had all the energy he needed: some bread, olives, water and the motivation of seeing his family again. He often mused that this was a second beginning, very much a repeat of his first trip from Oniraki. How he longed for the mother goat with her milk and the kids for company. Yes, he would rebuild his life and his publishing empire and this time he had his family to share it with.
By the time Nico arrived in Athens he had walked more than two hundred kilometers. Just thinking about his family and the good times ahead made the journey easier. He hardly felt the blood that filled his ragged shoes from the blisters that had burst and rubbed his feet raw and his thin frame paid no attention to his hungry stomach. He hungered more for those he loved.
Nico walked the last few steps into the Plaka. Even in his exhausted state he moved like a panther in the night, sleek and quiet. He entered his house through the open kitchen window and silently went upstairs to Melina’s bedroom. His daughter was sleeping, one arm dangling over the side of the bed. He wanted to lift it back onto the mattress and hug her, but he knew it wasn’t wise. He didn’t want to put her in jeopardy. He knew the Germans were still after him, even though the British and Allied troops were on the outskirts of Athens. He knew liberation was close, but didn’t want to take any chances. He blew her a kiss and went to Valentina. Sela saw Nico come in and was thrilled that he was alive and well. He was thinner than when he left, and his tattered clothes and bloody feet convinced her that he had been through hell. She didn’t say anything and watched him. Nico never saw her and she let him be. Her eyes followed him when he went to Melina’s room and then to the master bedroom. When he didn’t come back out she just smiled and went to the piano.
When Nico looked in he saw Valentina asleep on their bed, the bed where they had shared so many wonderful intimate moments together and created a lifetime of memories. His heart skipped a beat, and his body filled with joy. He went to her and gently covered her mouth. Valentina’s eyes flew open. She was ready to fight when she realized it was Nico. Her eyes grew wider and calmer, and then the tears slid down the sides of her face. Nico slowly leaned forward and as he removed his hand he sweetly kissed the most delicious lips in the world. Valentina hugged her man and they held each other for a very long time without saying a word.
Sela sat on the bench at the piano, looked at her pictures, and caressed the Song vase. She didn’t move from her spot for a couple of hours and daydreamed about her life and her family. Normally she would have just looked at the photos, sat down, lit a cigarette and played. Today she didn’t make a sound and gave Nico and Valentina some very much-needed time alone.
Sela waited until daybreak when the rays hit the vase. The brilliance radiated the light around her and into her. Sela touched it and smiled. It was their special moment. She stroked the ivory keys and gently tapped the little ebony steps. She then lovingly spread her fingers across the octaves and played with more gusto than she’d had in four years of enemy occupation.
It was as if Sela had a premonition. Suddenly every church bell in Athens, and indeed around the country, rang and rang and seemed to never stop. British soldiers in jeeps, tanks and on foot moved into the city. A few Nazis that were left disappeared. People ran out of their houses and into the streets. They stopped everything they were doing and started to shout, scream for joy, sing and dance. Everybody embraced everybody else, whether they knew them or not. Music and bouzoukis could be heard everywhere, entire neighborhoods danced syrtakis and every other Greek dance imaginable. The bells continued to ring. The news spread like wildfire. The sun was shining in a cloudless bold, blue sky. The sea surrounding the country was calm yet powerfully blue, and when Nico and the beloved women in his life walked outside of the villa they saw waves of Greek blue from tiny flags flying from what seemed every door, every window, every street corner, every building and every child’s little hand. When they looked up the Aegean blue flag was being raised at the top of the Acropolis by proud and handsome
Evzones
in authentic revolutionary uniforms with pleated skirts, knives in their sashes and red pompoms on their
tsarouchia
, their clog-like shoes that originated during the Homeric times. They saluted their flag that danced gracefully and elegantly in the warm breeze. The entire city, and indeed the rest of the land, was having a party—it was liberation day.
ELEFTHERIA! FREEDOM!
could be heard from every corner of the country. Nico, the seal point cat, who had sworn to help free his nation, let his breath out. He had done his part in reclaiming its rightful color and its soul. Greece was once again free and a joyous blue.
♫
CHAPTER 35
Several days later Nico was drinking his coffee in his beloved patio. He was thinking about the steps he needed to take to get his business up and running, when he heard a familiar and very loud sound. “What the devil?” He stood up and hobbled in his bandaged feet to the outside wall of his home. He looked over and burst out laughing, as he watched a Hamilcar tank pull up to his front door and recognized the British officer from the glider.
“Hey, Laddy, I told you I’d come for a visit. Do you have any Scotch lying around this beautiful mansion?” He shouted from the top of the tank’s hatch.
“I have a bottle with your name on it!” Nico shouted back and ran out into the street as fast as his sore feet would let him. The officer jumped off the seven tons of metal vehicle and Nico hugged the jovial man. “What’s with the tank? You couldn’t find a taxi or a mule?”
“Sentimental, Laddy, sentimental. Besides, all the jeeps were already taken.”
The entire neighborhood came out to witness what the commotion was all about. When they saw the tank they cheered, and the children climbed up and played. They were all over the Britisher and he hugged each and every one of them. He let them sit inside and explained the machinery to them. After a little while he scooted them all out.
“If you’re finished playing come in, I want you to meet my family,” Nico said. The officer followed him into the house and met the women Nico was so proud of. He presented them with a very large can of corned beef. Valentina was thrilled, and for the next two weeks she managed meals for the family. She prepared the beef boiled, fried, baked, hashed, sautéed and any other way her creative mind could concoct. It would take the family a long way, but it would also take them a very long time before any one of them could eat corned beef again.
♫