Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After a long Gypsy summer in the fall of 1947 the weather turned foggy and rainy. The people who during the months of September and October had fled to the forests, where they had dug bunkers and hid from the frequent attacks by government troops and from the almost daily bombings, began to return to their homes. The first strong rains in the fall convinced both warring sides to slow down and less machine gun fire was heard in the first days of November. DAG units began to descend on the liberated villages during the night and leave for the hills early in the morning before the crack of dawn. Royal troops concentrated in garrisons. In the foggy and rainy days they used cannon and artillery fire to attack DAG positions and infantry attacks on low hills and other positions near important roads, bridges and communication corridors.

Then, when it became known that large DAG units were about to cross over from Vicho to Gramos, troops from the Royal army began to be trucked into an area called Bei-bunar from where they carried out infantry attacks. While the artillery from Chetirok and Nestram pounded the enemy at the Stenite with cannon fire, the infantry moved in with a slow step, then, when the artillery stopped firing, the infantry charged enemy positions and occupied low lying hills. In this way the Royal army occupied Kosintsko and Karchitsko Pole all the way to Telok. Concentrated mortar fire was used against DAG units traveling along the brook, considered a front line between the two warring sides.

For a day or two, for as long as there was no movement, the Royal army was returned to the barracks. Sounds of battles taking place were heard coming from positions in Gorusha and Odreto but mostly from Kopanche. And that was during the day. Heavy night fighting was heard coming from positions in Popole. Then at dawn the wounded, loaded on mules, horses, donkeys, carts, stretchers and blankets, began to arrive. The lightly wounded were taken to V’mbel. The heavily wounded were taken to Albania. They were left in a clearing inside the Albanian border where they were picked up at night by trucks with headlights off and taken to Korcha. Those who did not survive the trek to the clearing were buried on the side of the road.

People experienced much suffering, crying and hardships by the time the Greek Civil War entered its second year. All one had to do was look at people’s faces to understand how they felt. Even speaking simple words was difficult and painful for them. They felt constricted in their throats and tightness on their lips. There was not a single day that left joy behind. Misery followed people everywhere, day and night, anticipating bad news; the worst news one could receive from the battlefields. They all hoped and prayed for good news but anticipated the worst. More and more young wives were widowed, some with one, two, or three children. They dressed in black and walked silently, carrying within them the darkness of the day. There was not a song sung anywhere. They often gathered at night to pray and pay their respects to the dead. In these weary days people were learning to live under difficult circumstances.

“Send the village crier,” Lazo said to Kuze, “to invite the men to the village square so that we can tell them what those from above want.”

“The village crier was mobilized a couple of days ago,” replied Kuze. “You were not here and did not hear the women and the old swearing and cursing. It’s not right...”

“And what is right?” asked Lazo.

“It is not right that they took all the boys and girls... And you know what the man responsible for the mobilization said when people were telling him the children were too young? He said: ‘So what if they are too young. They will grow up...’ That’s what the bastard said,” replied Kuze.

“Kuze, you watch what you are saying,” scolded Lazo. “By calling the man in charge a bastard you are cursing our struggle. Did you know that? The man responsible for recruitment was right, they will grow up, that’s for sure...”

Kuze looked at Lazo and said: “I want you to know that I did not give him my Nikolche. One of his associates came to my house, looked at my Nikolche and said: ‘Stand there by the door.’ He

looked at him several times as if measuring him and said: ‘Come with me.’ I yelled out loud ‘NO!’ and said ‘Comrade can’t you see that the boy is too young?’ I then grabbed his baptismal certificate and said, ‘Look, he is not even fourteen years old!’ He said his age did not matter because my boy was tall. I begged him not to take him. I was prepared to go on my knees in front of him... And while he was distracted with me, Nikolche ran off. He returned home when they were gone...”

Kuze paused for a moment, looked at Lazo and said: “Lazo is this how we are going to conduct our struggle, eh? Many people rejoice at the idea of their children growing up. But growing up how? Beside their mother and father and not in the mountains with a gun in their hands… hey Lazo, stop telling me what to say and what not to say.”

Lazo never expected words like those coming out of Kuze and felt a bit offended. He then again asked Kuze to gather all the men in the village. He said: “Kuze, please call on everyone in the village to come to our meeting. Ring the church bell if you have to.”

Kuze went and immediately returned before leaving the yard and said: “It’s raining outside, Lazo.”

“Then tell them to come to the school!” replied Lazo with a stern tone of voice.

“It will be just as bad in the school because there is a hole in the roof,” explained Kuze.

“Then ask them to gather at the church!” Lazo yelled.

“That is if they want to come…” added Kuze quietly.

“What do you mean ‘if they want to come?’ you go to their homes and bring them to the church one by one if you have to! Do you understand?” explained Lazo.

“I understand very well but will they understand?” said Kuze and stepped out while lifting his shirt collar to cover his neck.

Kuze went to the church and began to ring the church bell. Old man Mitre, whose house was closest to the church, put his spoon down, left the table, looked out the window and shouted: “Mitrovitsa, Mitrovitsa! Go and see who is ringing the church bell and why.”

“Kuze the lizard is ringing the church bell, calling the people to a meeting,” replied Mitrovtsa after she returned home. “I said they are calling the people to an assembly… Kuze the lizard is ringing the bell calling all men to an assembly!” Mitrovitsa shouted again because Mitre was hard of hearing.

“At the church?” yelled Mitre, surprised and started walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Mitrovitsa.

Mitre nodded towards the door with his head and picked up his cane from the corner.

“Do you think they can’t have a meeting without you?” asked Mitrovitsa.

“It’s not up to you to decide if they can or can’t have a meeting without me,” replied Mitre somewhat offended. “If I am late returning I will be at Kiro’s having a conversation.”

“Okay people let’s get a move on…” Lazo was heard saying. “Good evening Mitre, please go into the church you are getting soaked out here!”

“What’s going on Lazo?” asked Mitre.

“Get in, get in. Let us all gather, I will tell you inside,” replied Lazo.

By now the people were used to attending meetings such as this one so this time they rallied faster than Lazo expected.

Kuze went from house to house calling on the people and was now approaching the last few houses in the village.

Lazo entered the church, went towards the back and stopped in front of the altar. Pop Vasil stood beside him. Everyone was looking at him anxiously but saw no urgency in his eyes and no disrespect for the church. Lazo raised his hand and when the voices quieted down he said: “We have gathered you all here to tell you that our struggle is becoming more extensive. We have created a free territory and a democratic government...”

“Temporary…” a voice was heard saying in the back.

Lazo stopped talking, raised himself on his toes to see who had spoken and continued: “That’s right, comrade, a provisional democratic government and other organizations. We now have a national board and soon we will have a people’s court. Two months ago you elected comrade Kuze as president of the national board, right?”

“We know all those things, Lazo. Why have you called us here this time?” asked someone in the back.

“I did not call you; it is the struggle that is calling you. The struggle, comrades, will call on you until we are all free... Remember that... Our struggle needs help and where does that help come from… comrades? From us, only from us, comrades! You should know that we are stretched across a wide territory and we are fighting under heavy and very difficult conditions. Our fighters need warm clothes, warm wool socks and... food. And by calling on ‘all to arms and everything for victory’, we mean to gather our forces and fight even harder... Now, as I said, we need food. Therefore, those who have several cattle should donate at least one.”

“Please, Lazo!” shouted someone standing in the middle. “A month and a half ago we gave you two sheep for every ten we owned, after that one for every five... Now you want to collect our oxen?”

“What does it mean ‘collect your oxen’…” shouted Lazo. “We are not going to collect anyone’s oxen, comrades? Those who don’t want to donate, they don’t have to, but remember this; when the people come to power they will remember this for a long time...”

“Okay, okay, Lazo, you don’t need to yell… Don’t get yourself upset…” Mitre said to him quietly. “We will donate something… a calf, a cow, an ox…”

“That’s right, Mitre, that’s right!” Lazo interrupted with a satisfied tone of voice.

“This year everything is plowed and sown... But with what are we going to plow the fields next spring?” someone in the back asked.

Lazo had asked his comrades at the leadership office the same question and all he had to do here was repeat their answer. He said: “Tomorrow, when we win our freedom, friends, we will not bother with plowing and with oxen...”

Someone sighed, another coughed and a moment later conversations erupted everywhere on the floor, disrupting the meeting.

“Silence!” Lazo yelled and continued. “Friends please stop your talking. Please understand that there will always be plowing...”

“But with what, Lazo?” asked Mitre.

“With tractors, my dear Mitre, with tractors!” Lazo proudly declared.

Mitre tugged at his ear, not believing that he had heard right and asked: “What did you say?”

“Tractors... Tractors, Mitre...” replied Lazo loudly so that even Mitre could hear him.

“And what is that?” inquired Mitre.

Unfortunately Lazo never did ask his friends at the leadership office what a tractor was and did not know how to answer Mitre. He was hoping that the question would get lost in the noise. Lazo wanted to skip over that part and continue with the next but Mitre brought it up again. He said: “Lazo, you did not tell us what a tractor is…”

Lazo was a practical person and, through the logic behind such a thing, was able to quickly formulate an answer.

“Well, it should be clear to you Mitre, that it is something you use for plowing… You understand…” Lazo replied.

Mitre clicked with his tongue and audibly thought to himself: “I understand nothing… It is clear to me that it’s not a bull. If it was a bull then the interim government would not be taking our oxen...”

Kuze, who had seen tractors before the war when he worked in Thessaly, explained: “People, a tractor is a machine with two large and two small wheels. Behind it, it pulls two or more plows and in two to five days can plow half the fields in our village.”

Lazo, now satisfied, addressed Mitre: “It is clear to you now Grandpa Mitre, right?”

“Does our National government have such machines?” someone else asked.

“For now it hasn’t, but soon it will...” replied Lazo.

“And where is it going to get them from, Lazo?” asked Fidan, a short compact man who always liked to ask questions but never wanted to answer any. “From where, Lazo? I am asking you…”

“From Russia of course… from Russia, Fidan…” replied Lazo who instantly remembered being given this answer by his comrades in the leadership office.

Kuze turned around and faced those who stood behind him and boasted to them that he had seen tractors plow. He said: “It seems to me that the tractors I saw in Thessaly were English or French made…”

“If Russia has so many tractors to give away, why has it not given us any so far?” asked Mitre.

“Russia, Grandpa Mitre, is far away,” replied Lazo. “Who knows, maybe they have sent us some, maybe they are on their way now, but, as I said, Russia is very faraway and it will take a long time for the tractors to get here.”

Mitre turned to Giorgi and quietly said: “They will take and eat all our oxen…”

The meeting turned into a long argument. Few were those who did not want to give up their oxen and none said they would voluntarily give them up.

The villagers then dispersed and went home. Grandpa Mitre and Giorgi went to Kiro’s place; who in those days was utterly frail. When Mitre told Kiro what had transpired at the rally, Kiro sarcastically said: “I would love to see Lazo plow with a tractor…”

Kiro then added: “Dear Mitre, I have never seen Lazo plow, have you? All I have seen Lazo do is lie around in the shade and wait for the leaves to start turning so that he can say ‘summer is over at last’… You know, Mitre, when the leaves first start budding, Lazo starts with his pains here and there, holding his side or his back… Lazo will plow with a tractor? Never! Even if I see it I will not believe it…”

Kirovitsa, who usually kept out of the men’s conversations, could not stand it anymore and said: “Who, Lazo, that flee bitten corpse… plow? This year he did not even collect firewood. He did not bring a single log into his yard. Not even a stick. May God strike me dead if I am lying… A couple of days ago when I was at the spring I saw Lazovitsa breaking pieces of wood from the Mitrashkov hedge and stuffing them in her bag.”

“Why?” asked Mitre.

“Why?” she replied with a surprised tone of voice. “So that she can bake Lazo a zelnik… that’s why! She pulled out a whole pile of sticks…”