Noose – Chapter 19

Noose – Chapter 19

Life and vision without rhythm; the first collision of fates after a meeting between criminals and victims at the “Chair” shelter in Skopje.

(Here, stripped of our glory, we live in great humiliation, taken by force where we don’t want to go.) Danilov, a student.

1.

The fog was so thick over the stone bridge that I had to be cautious and stick to the stone fence. There were people in front of me, behind me and all around me rushing to go to wherever they were going. I caught up to the man wearing an old coat, staggering in front of me just before we arrived at the “Social Centre” and we both lined up in front of the desk where there was a sign that read: “Aegean Counter”. Now it is difficult for me, even impossible, to say when exactly in my life I had ever heard the word “Aegeans” with a big “A”. I read the sign for a second time and said to myself, “Do you see how much evil fate has brought us... Around this counter alone?” I don’t remember ever hearing that word before, not in the home of my parents, not during the Greek Civil War (1945-1949), and certainly not in the USSR. That word made me angry, bitter and isolated. It made me feel guilty without having anything to be guilty about. It made me feel like a stranger and pushed me outside of my historic place. But still I can not explain why that is, what made me want to reconstruct the whole truth about our Macedonian drama and prove that we are all “Aegeans” and that we all feel joy, fear, pain, love, anger, hurt and abandonment. Inside we are all the same. But we at the shelter still relied on the image that was installed in our heads: “how to act in a perfect communist society.” The man who stood in front of me smelled of tobacco and stale water. His cheeks were strangely red and his tired, shifty and wild eyes shone like hot embers. He looked at me suspiciously and said: “Are you new here?” “Yes!” I replied and noticed the movement of his hands and his restlessness from which I deduced that he was agitated and lacked mental and physical energy. He seemed to be flogged by dark thoughts and was full of disappointment. He seemed disturbed and his eyes looked like they were full of guilt. He seemed to feel worthless. Sometimes his gaze showed impatience and a desire to conceal something, some neurological problem perhaps. Again he turned, looked at me, and said: “Are you by any chance Yane Ognianov?” “And who are you?” I asked, thinking that I didn’t need to explain myself to anyone about who I am and where I come from. But when I looked at him more closely, I recognized some of his facial features, but still I was not sure who he was. He did not answer but reached out to hug me. He came closer and said: “I am from there (Greek occupied Macedonia) and I remember everything, I was born like everyone else but I belong there. Also, that which I remember is brilliant. I am Vasil Bogdanov, your comrade in arms. We fought together in the battles in Gramos. I am the late Lena Bogdanova’s brother.” And I thought to myself, wow this is Lina Bogdanova’s other son. I was simply stunned. Lena Bogdanova’s other brother, wow! I suddenly felt cold all over. I knew this man was an officer in Tito’s army who the Greeks had charged as Tito’s agent. He worked for the military police (Peoples Department of Security) and later enlisted with KOS (counterintelligence sector of YNA). His activities were discovered by the Greek Intelligence Services in 1948 and he was presumably executed by order of our brigade’s Military Headquarters. We now reside in the same barracks, No. 8, but he stays in a room at the end of the long corridor. He lives alone, all alone, deliberately pushing his life to the brink of death. About his return; people said it was a “happy return from the dead”. When he arrived at the shelter he had completely lost his memory, he remembered nothing. This is what was written in his hospital release from UDBA (State Security Services). But just now he spoke to me about life, death and eternity... No one asked him for anything because he would not give or accept anything from anyone. Vasil Bogdanov would not even speak to anyone. He is very odd that way. But from his sternness and strong expression he looked like he was carrying a lot of secrets that weighed on him.

Next door to him was Pitomir Dobroliubov, a NOF (National Liberation Front) activist who for years yearned for his beloved Donka. And as the saying goes: “Happy is he who still knows how to love...” I did not know any of the residents in this shelter so I knew nothing about them. Many were withdrawn, seemingly living without passion, and life without passion is desperate – nothing to look forward to. Desire is the driving force of life. And now after the war people here in the shelter felt like they were trapped. From day to day, from year to year they felt less and less happy. They would like to be in their own homes and be free and have a good life.

2.

Yes Minche Jazhin is the famous NOF activist, Filip Jazhin’s youngest brother. Now he calls himself Pitomir Dobroliubov. He was present at Lina Bogdanova’s trial and execution. He was there when they hung Lina Bogdanova and after the war he changed his name and surname because he thought by doing so he would find some peace. Now he is a different man. He is not like the other residents here in the shelter. He plays the Russian balalaika. He also plays the violin which he learned to play by simply watching and listening to others play it. He was a member of the camp orchestra in the Siberian prison camps. Nowadays it is rare to see Minche Jazhin together with anyone, even Vasil Bogdanov, even though they live next door to each other. One day Bogdanov decided to tell Jazhin his story the way he experienced it in Goli Otok and the way he was condemned by Yugoslav law. Since then Minche Jazhin became Pitomir Dobroliubov, who always went to the public toilet, head uncovered, with his white hair scattered all over the place, agitated and pompous with an ominous expression on his face, a result of his past experiences. One day he told his own story in detail and in a deep and hoarse voice speaking in the Lerin dialect. This is what he said: “We gnawed the same bone and for the same bone we gnawed each other. We bit each other like mad dogs. The communists used us for political trade and convinced us that it was real politics. Now I recognize and admit that, as a member of NOF, I am to blame for misleading the Macedonian people. I don’t feel bad for the CPG (Communist Party of Greece), because of it I was convicted under the Russian Federation Criminal Code and was issued the number 049 which I wore through the Siberian winters like I was some kind of race horse that anyone could ride across the vast tundra. Today, in front of all our people, I want to say that our organizations NOF and AFZH (Women’s Anti-Fascist Front) were the biggest culprits responsible for the Macedonian mass participation in all military and political actions that the CPG and DAG undertook. My sins are great; I don’t want to carry anything from those times, not even my name... NOF and AFZH were powerless without the CPY (Communist Party of Yugoslavia) and the CPG and so was the DAG military leadership. NOF and AFZH were loyal and subservient to the CPY and CPG. We were totally oblivious regarding the tragic and comical role we were playing as we became the means for outsiders to manipulate our people.” He paused for a moment, thought, and continued: “It was January 4, 1950 when we arrived in Moscow. That date is carved in my soul. They first stuffed us in the Lefortovo , Lubianka and Butirka prisons like we were the greatest enemies of socialism. It was very cold that day. The cell was filthy; it probably had not been cleaned since the October Revolution. It was full of hair, semen and finger and toe nails left there by people who opposed Stalin. I lived in that cell for two and a half years or 900 days and 900 nights. I was really surprised and amazed when I figured out that I had actually spent 20,600 hours of my life in that four walled cell in the Russian cold and still managed to survive and remain sane. At times I felt really sad especially when someone died in the neighbouring cells and was wrapped in a rough blanket and thrown into a truck to be carried off who knows where. Sometimes I could not dream and I didn’t know why. At those times I was in total silence like I was living in another world. I was afraid of people. And I know when a person is afraid of people it means this person has wronged God. I felt like people were also afraid of me and as a Christian I wondered: if a person has a living soul then that person should not be afraid.” He paused, looked into the distance and with a sad tone in his voice continued: “What really makes me angry,” he said, “is that I am here without having committed any sins against my people. Is there a crueler penalty than this?

Well, to this day I do not know why I was imprisoned for 20,600 hours in “Butirka.” The cold was unbearable, but worse than that were the cries and screams of those in pain. And all this took place in Moscow, in the most beautiful city of communism, the most beautiful city of our future. The greatest isolation of humanity is loneliness. The loneliness was tearing me apart and I started to sink into oblivion, I lost all hope and I hungered for nothing. I believe it was in July 1952 when they gave me a bag of dry food and some cans of meat and, together with many other prisoners all looking like scarecrows, loaded us in a number of rail cars and a few days later we arrived in the city Taished in Siberia. There, I was escorted by Russian troops armed with bayonets. I felt like a large animal on its way to slaughter. I left the horror of living alone like a caged wild animal behind and came to Siberia to work in desolation and survive on a plate of borsch a day. I came from there my friend! There I learned all the words precious to the government. There I also learned all the words of hatred and afterwards I erased everything, I even changed my name with only one goal in mind; to find my Donka and start a family and a home.”

* * *

Suddenly Minche stopped talking. He looked very angry. His eyes began to vibrate. He asked: “Who am I now? With my new name and surname? Nobody! A man living all alone, passing his days playing the balalaika every day.” He still remembered the expression on Donka’s face when they accidentally met at one of AFZH’s functions. Ever since then and all throughout the war they had been madly in love. They saw each other often and had been together many times and would have made a very happy married couple. Minche took out a photograph of himself and Donka both wearing a DAG uniform. They looked like they were very much in love, the memory of which Minche could not extinguish even after ten years. This love left him scarred for life, for which there was no cure. It left his soul lonely and desolate. He did not dare to even think that maybe Donka had given up on him! He was burning with jealousy when he heard rumours that Donka may have been grabbed by some Greek who now lived in Tashkent. But Minche, deep inside, did not want to believe all that and to this day is still waiting for his Donka. He lives on the go believing that one day he will find her. He believes she is here, lonely and sad, drifting around among the wanderers. He tries to force himself to think of happy thoughts but his mind constantly drifts into unclear and strange traps. He spends his nights thinking, searching for a life of joy and desires, thoughts that give him pain. “Oh God what did I not say?” he began talking again. “I said many things to our people to convince them to join the struggle, including the idea that this war was a continuation of the Ilinden Uprising. I lied to our people to convince them that this war was a worthy cause for which to give their lives and to perish for Macedonia. What was I thinking? It will take me a thousand hours to tell you my entire story, my pain. My memories will give you shivers… It’s best that I keep the dark part of my story to myself. But let me say that there I did learn how to play the Russian balalaika. Also let me tell you that my heart became like a crumpled shirt after I lost my beloved Donka who used to kiss me, smelling like beech tree leaves. Now I am alone, all alone to whisper at the sunset.” He pulled out his hand with spread fingers and breathing rhythmically he murmured the words of the Russian song “under Moscow’s faith.” He stood behind his window looking at the newly arriving wanderers. After that he went to his iron bed with its covers and mattress smelling of urine from the sick people who laid on it and from the old people who smeared themselves with camphor and “Russian water”. Here, drowsy and with a desperate heart, he played his balalaika and sang the song “Serbez Donke.” “Oh my God, how can life be so unfair?” he asked himself before falling asleep and letting his soul wander in the boundless landscapes of his dreams. The moon crawled into bed with him and reminded him of the nights he had spent together in the black forest of Mount Vicho, embraced by Donka. He was now struggling to learn our beautiful songs so that he could play them on this strange instrument. He knew that all the people that were there, the Germans, Poles, Romanians, Bulgarians, Greeks, Czechoslovakians, Hungarians, Mongolians, Chinese, Koreans and Yugoslavs, who had learned to play the balalaika, had also learned to play their songs on it. He bowed his head, wiped the sweat off his forehead and said: “I don’t ever want to set foot on Russian soil for as long as the great leader’s successors are living there. For years now I have been struggling to figure out “how I could have broken the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation when I was fighting in my own country Macedonia (Greek occupied Macedonia)! I do not ever want to go there, where I was stripped of my elementary human rights without even being given a chance to defend myself. My soul was full of bitterness and I was sick and tired of having to eat kapusta (cabbage) every day.

Even now I get sick when I am reminded of the hanging mottos having specific political messages aimed at ‘educating’ us... I am old and I want to forget everything except the Russian people and the Russian songs which fascinate me and which I will play on this balalaika for the rest of my life...” Now when Minche plays the balalaika he assumes a certain position and holds the balalaika slightly upward above the horizontal position just as he played it in the Siberian Orchestra under the direction of Ivan Petrovich Kokotkin. He recalled Kokotkin’s words when he was told to: “Play with emotion. Emotions teach a man to reason...” Now only sometimes, during moments of solitude when he has his moments of vigour, he plays. His music is simple but excruciating, closely accented with anger and sadness and a few tears. He plays all his songs when he learns that a new group of wanderers has just arrived and hopes that among them is his beloved Donka.

3.

Sometimes, during the occasional meeting with Vasil Bogdanov, Minche would stop and talk for a long time, but never about himself. He always spoke about our common tragedy. He often spoke about those who had dried blood from past wars on their hands. One day Vasil Bogdanov said to me: “This was not a war of our choice. We were told what to do and their words were a powerful monologue. Cynicism has become hypocritical and criminal. In this war we Macedonians did not know how far to go and how to find the place where we belonged. The cynicism of the Yugoslav concern for the Macedonians in Greek occupied Macedonia can be expressed in a few words: ‘maybe Yugoslavia in 1944-1945 had the desire to avoid a civil war inside Yugoslavia or maybe Yugoslavia wanted to solve its future Macedonian problems with Greece.’ Our life after the war unfortunately became worse than death. We all suffered immensely and became marked by this war forever. We suffered much abuse and nothing was clear throughout the Greek Civil War. It was a life with no rules. Those who tortured us should have looked at their own hands. At the dried blood on their hands...” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and continued: “For some we were heroes and for others traitors. Some lived to cause us pain and others thrived to throw us out of our homes. We were not wanted that’s why we became victims. Perhaps we sacrificed ourselves for the salvation of all Macedonians, or perhaps not...?” He shrugged his shoulders, bent his mouth as if wanting to stop talking but then continued again: “We Macedonians, the way we were divided, would have been damned if we took a stand during the war and we were damned anyway for remaining static and expressionless. Now we are living in shelters not knowing whether to be happy or sad. You know that for human beings there is really nothing more valuable than to have freedom of thought, freedom of wandering and freedom to be ourselves and to have our own identity. Especially now, after the war, after the worst is over and there are no more imprisonments. Yes, the worst may be over, but there are still some inexplicable things about these shelters. When a human being is enclosed within four walls, not by choice, no matter how beautiful the walls, they still feel like a prison. A person will not feel free as long as they are enclosed in a place without the possibility of leaving. But let me say that it is better than being locked up in a treeless dry island or in a dense forest in Siberia! I don’t know. Maybe I am too much of a pessimist, or perhaps I am overly suspicious, but I would say that we will have a hard time fitting in, in this social life as timeless wanderers.” Bogdanov was tormented by the catastrophe our people had experienced. He was even more tormented by the well-kept secret about what had happened to thousands of his countrymen – conveniently called Aegeans. He was so tormented that he began to forget things. Towards the end he could not even remember his first love... The only thing he remembered was that his beloved girl had a mole on her back. He gave up all his dreams because they troubled him and gave him the shakes. He trembled like the water in the sea, blown by the wind. He often thought of the dry islands from which there was no news. He lowered his head and after thinking for some time he said: “Sometimes I think that I would have been better off if I had never been born.”

4.

We, the older residents who lived in this shelter the longest, are from Tashkent, Zgorzelets, Belo Yani, Voivodina and Piteshti. We had all spent time at Indrizovo Prison thanks to the services of UDBA who questioned us, not about all of our past, but only about our heroic struggles at Gramos and about our loyalty. They collected all our red Party books and we thought that soon happy days would follow and maybe it would help us forget the Marxist-Leninist-Stalinist system, but nobody told us anything about our future. But spending nights in the shelter had its own way of answering questions. After that nobody touched us again.

5.

One day a number of old people were sitting under the eaves of a barracks. There was not a single cloud in the sky and the air smelled of freshly cut grass. It was spring and May Day, the day of the proletariat, was just around the corner. The warm sun and mild air drew people out to visit with nature. We the wanderers, on the other hand, one by one gathered under the eaves of the barracks to argue about events that had taken place during the war. “It is strange now to remember those who once were more alive than we are!” said Paskal Rogozharov as a way of introducing the next subject of discussion and continued: “Every day I listen to you debate about the war and about our self-sacrifices. People! Today we should not be looking at ourselves as the vanquished, we should be examining where we went wrong! We need accountability not new fog and uncertainty. It is time for accountability! Today we live in the thread of politics. After our return to the Republic of Macedonia we found life somewhat unclear. We were told that in order to survive today we must not look, not listen and not talk. Our inflated expectations of others (CPY and CPG) brought us nothing but trouble and disappointment. We can get the same love as citizens where we came from (Greece) as an oppressed people, thrown into the ideological waste after the Greek Civil War. It is time that we tell all our dark secrets about the politics of these Parties (CPY and CPG). Without a clear story we are and we will remain in oblivion.” He paused for a moment, looked around and continued, “We have had various cycles of booms and crashes and madness and panic. Until a few years ago greed ruled: dictates and dirty aims. Now, as wanderers living in shelters we live in fear. Nobody knows how long this cycle will last, perhaps until our records are formalized? We clearly don’t know for sure what will happen to us wanderers now. Will we be passed on to another god? Will we see an end to our suffering? We all know that the heads of NOF and AFZH were welcomed here as deserving people and we, the fighters, all had to pass through the apparatus by spending time in prison. Why? I don’t understand why that is? Is the army bad and the leadership good for these people? I wonder: ‘Will there ever be an end to this double morality?’ Will there ever be an end to our investigation knowing that these leaders themselves (appointed by the CPG to be responsible for the Macedonians) forced us to fight to the death (in the units of DAG) for foreign interests? Is there any hope for our rehabilitation?” “There will be,” interrupted Mitre Kalchunov and then continued, “if from now on we here faithfully pray, as you put it, to the new god. Do you want to know the truth?” Someone yelled out, “What truth?” The interruption left everyone with their mouths open. “The truth about us who they call ‘Aegeans’ with a capital ‘A’,” replied Mitre and continued: “Could we have entered some sort of Balkan confederation with our families destroyed? Especially now at the end after they took our children? After the CPG and Zahariadis created an ‘official Party family’ out of us during the Greek Civil War? Sending the husbands and wives to the front and putting the children in nurseries under the care of the Party to be used as future victims. But now this is a new cycle in our life. Do you remember the communist slogans proudly echoed during the war? And now we have become wanderers. Who now would like to hear those slogans? Do you? Nobody now recognizes our years of suffering up there on those cold mountains! Who now is going to believe or care about what we did then? Only now we are slowly discovering that democracy is the same as dictatorship, fascism is the same as communism but with several parties. Now I would like to ask you all: ‘Are you truly happy after all this?’”

6.

As the “wanderers” became aware of these questions, they, time and time again, repeated them and each time the questions were repeated new questions seemed to surface and eventually the overriding question became: “What is the State’s reason for keeping all these people in shelters?” “After my desertion from a camp in Albania I was arrested by the Greek Intelligence Service and found myself in Skopje,” interrupted Vasil Bogdanov, going on to say: “Yes, it was a time of ideological schizophrenia. I returned to Yugoslavia during the spring of 1949 and was asked the following question: ‘Who do you support Stalin or Tito?’ Without losing a breath I said, ‘I support communism and the great Stalin.’ I was arrested by an UDBA agent right there and then and taken to the ‘Matka’ jail. I spent many grueling months there. This was my second exile from my homeland. I did not know what to do, I was lost. Scary thoughts were constantly going through my head. One day, in exasperation, I tore my red book and threw all my awards into the fire... I had come to the realization that I was condemned, not only by my own people but also by God. For a person, his or her place of birth is the most powerful factor in the defense against foreign propaganda, but this war has proven that there is a desire to destroy our Macedonian identity and the very fabric that makes us Macedonian.” Bogdanov paused for a moment and continued: “It was through the layers of such propaganda that the politics dictated by the CPY / CPM and CPG began to be disseminated among us, expressing relations between Belgrade and Athens. Deep in all this the Macedonian people were completely hidden, especially us Macedonians who had joined the ranks of DAG en masse and who were expected to sacrifice ourselves for them. In other words, the very same people who pushed us into the war remained friends.” “Yes, that is correct!” interrupted Minche Jazhin, continuing: “As the newest members of the Federation we Macedonians in the Federal Republic of Macedonia proved to be weak and gave up on our interests in the Aegean Macedonians because of the Balkan Pact, with the signing of the infamous Popovic-Averof Agreement.” (A military alliance between Yugoslavia, Greece and Turkey was signed in August 1954 in Bled (Yugoslavia). The Balkan Pact was established in 1953 at a time when Yugoslavia, for a short time, was threatened by the communist block

countries. This alliance did not last long so in 1961 the three countries agreed to annul it.) Vasil Bogdanov then said: “Our ‘Aegeans’ who were in UDBA used to interrogate me every day about everything. They were building their careers that way. Suddenly, after all the years they had been my friends and fellow fighters in the Aegean Brigade, they bent their tails and overnight turned their backs on me. At such times you came to the realization that politics is a powerful and an absolutely relentless tool. It steps on everything in front of you in the name of some high interest or to gain some advantage in the service of the military police. I have never before experienced such pressures as those experienced in those days. Many of the major positions in UDBA were occupied by our (Aegeans) people who never fought in the Greek Civil War or who were deserters and who left us fighters and the Macedonian people in the hands of strangers or in the hands of our enemies. After serving in their ranks I was convinced that we Macedonians were just victims...” Bogdanov looked around and then continued: “Every ruler has his own strategy and wants his subjects to stand firm as one, united behind his every initiative. ‘Divide and conquer’ is an easy strategy to deal with. When a leader becomes a ruler he can easily direct his feelings against an internal or an external enemy, so that he can easily control the temper and excitement of the masses. This is how ‘united in hatred’ is created and too bad for those who are outside of this crowd. I now understand that very well... This was Stalin and Tito’s politics in order to save socialism in Yugoslavia, which soon became acceptable to the Western Powers, especially since they (Tito and Stalin) did not interfere with their eradication of the communists in Greece. One of the reasons for taking such a position was undoubtedly the fact that the USSR had informed the Greek communist leadership that it was against an armed seizure of power in Greece: Churchill’s negotiations with Stalin led to an agreement, unknown in Greece at that time, according to which the country (Greece) had completely crossed into the British sphere of influence. Thus the Soviet Union had bigger fish to fry in Eastern Europe.” Bogdanov paused, opened his eyes wide, looked at everyone and continued: “So many of our ‘Aegeans’ who had turned their heads towards Belgrade, in my opinion, were not liked at all. Some were even offended by the way the work of NOF and AFZH was interpreted, saying that the activities of the Macedonian fighters in the DAG units had no patriotic character. NOF and AFZH did not become a political or a military factor for the Macedonians during the war. NOF and AFZH only served to mass mobilize the Macedonian people and then they were pushed to the sidelines by the CPG. I saw this with my own eyes and, guided by the principle that our people should know about it, I remained objective and impartial when I spoke about it. This war unfortunately crushed the Macedonian way of life in Greek occupied Macedonia. It robbed the Macedonian home of its children and sent everything else to hell. The Greek Communists skillfully led our people through NOF and AFZH; formed at the initiative of Yugoslavia and then surrendered to the hands of the CPG. In my view, because of our ‘obedience’ we allowed things to ‘get out of hand’ so much so that they passed the point of no return, things became irreversible… All this aided in turning Greek occupied Macedonia into a graveyard of heroes!” Bogdanov continued: “The CPY / CPM and the CPG were not leading sensible politics toward Macedonia, particularly towards the Macedonians in Greek occupied Macedonia. For years communist leaders aimed their sinister politics towards the Macedonian people. Macedonians were made victims by both sides (CPY and CPG) with politics aimed at our demise rather than at granting us freedom. The libertarian feelings of the unfortunate Macedonians were endlessly exploited.

Many innocent and honest Macedonians died in the battles during the Greek Civil War. Such were the politics and remained as such even after the war had ended. It is as clear as daylight to me now and there is no need to prove that they (CPY and CPG) entered this war for the purpose of making victims out of us to deposit us all over the world... And today I ask you, ‘What does it means to be a small nation?’ The same awareness was still there after my return to Skopje. At that time politics were managed by the Central Committee of the CPY, the only party in power. It was even worse in the ranks of the CPG, as we have now found out. It was the same in the USSR. Nobody was allowed to comment regarding the decisions they made or positions they took. But they on the other hand, like high priests, had the right to conduct business over the entire Yugoslav space. Everyone was convinced that it must be done this way.” Bogdanov paused, took a long breath and continued: “But we Macedonians were constantly moved through the fields like chess pieces, sometimes black sometimes white (sometimes with the CPG other times with the CPY). This went on for the entire war period. It seems like we had always been pawns – sometime black and sometimes white, moved here and there with the occasional officer but never as kings. We proceeded across the fields as servants throughout our lives to the drum beat of foreign leaders: Tito, Zahariadis, seeking to score another victory over a real or imaginary opponent. We all have suffered the same fate and traveled the same road towards death but has anyone learned the real secret as to why? It seems to me that we the Macedonians of this generation have not done our homework and have not left ourselves enough space to stitch our own fate. It seems to me that we blindly followed foreign propaganda which led us barefoot into a patch of thorns. We have allowed foreigners to lead us through historical squalls and gale storms and as a result we have affected and drastically altered all of Aegean Macedonia. Finally and most importantly, in my opinion, we Macedonians are finally realizing that in our recent past we have suffered immensely. Our Macedonian habitat has been destroyed and we have suffered direct violence and amassed many casualties. We sacrificed ourselves for ideals that don’t exist; there are no sacred things, there are no moral constraints. Everything was done for someone else’s interests (as we were told: ‘in the interest of the Party’), for someone else’s advantage. Everything was done for the leader!” Bogdanov continued: “I am mad because with our loyalty and with our souls we helped strangers destroy us. May God protect the courage and future of those who remain near the graves of their loved ones. We were tricked because we underestimated the wisdom of our ancestors, who for centuries kept the Macedonian culture alive...” Bogdanov concluded his talk in a quiet voice with a tone of sorrow and dignity... He tried to suppress his deep emotions with a smile. He then asked me for my wish. I said: “My wish is to return to the old hard woods. I dream of long words in short moments, of cold night kisses after a difficult day, of drops of sweat like tears during harvest and of flying birds in love…”

From the military Chronicles

The closer the Greek Civil War was coming to an end the more the Albanians were forced to take account of their own involvement in Greek activities. This could have compromised Albania and exposed it to dangers of being attacked by NATO. Because of this, on May 5, 1949 Mehmet Shehu, Albanian Minister of the Interior, gave orders to disband the camp near the Greek-Albanian border, where Greek citizens sentenced to death by the Democratic Army courts were kept. Most of the prisoners there were Macedonians sentenced to death for spying for the Yugoslav intelligence services, to be executed on the spot. Relations between the two Parties (CPG and the Communist Party of Albania (CPA)) worsened especially after DAG lost the battle of Vicho, fought from August 10 to 16, 1949. Shortly after the battle was lost, Mehmet Shehu informed Yannis Ioannidis and Michos Partsalidis, members of the CPG Politburo and Central Committee, that their tactics were leading DAG a step closer to disaster and if these tactics were to be continued in Gramos there too they would have a disaster. Mehmet Shehu recommended that in his opinion the “Provisional Democratic Government should be disbanded.” On July 10, 1949 Tito closed the border with Greece. The CPG, under the directive of the Communist Party Central Committee, on July 23, 1949 broke off relations with Yugoslavia. After that the following events took place in Albania: On August 22, 1949 a meeting was held in Korcha between Zahariadis from the CPG on one side and Enver Hoxha, Mehmet Shehu and Kapo from the CPA on the Albanian side. Current issues were discussed and an agreement was reached to allow the retreat of about 5,000 DAG fighters into Albanian territory after the battles at Vicho were concluded. From there the fighters were to transfer to Gramos and join the DAG forces fighting in Gramos. Commitment and consent from Albanian authorities was required in order for the transfer to take place. Enver Hoxha posed the following question during the meeting: “What will you do if the Athens government attacks you with full force?” Zahariadis replied: “We will fight to the last one. Or perhaps we will withdraw into Albania.” At that point Enver Hoxha expressed fears that if such a thing were to happen it would seriously expose and complicate Albania’s international position. Mehmet Shehu knew that the Soviet Union was not going to support such a proposal so he recommended that Zahariadis dissolve DAG soon. Zahariadis on the other hand persistently kept silent on the issue so Shehu reaffirmed his position again by saying: “It is time for you to admit defeat and then there will be no reason to transfer forces, especially crippled fighters, from the battlefields of Vicho to their final burial grounds in Gramos.”