Front Matter - Part 01

AUTOBIOGRAPHY Or my Suffering

By Pavle Rakovski

(Translated from Macedonian to English and edited by Risto Stefov)

Autobiography – Or my Suffering

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May 6, 2018

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Author’s Remarks

a) The text that follows is the result of an unusually persistent encouragement by Tashko Mamurovski, a senior expert and collaborator working at the INI memoirs department in Skopje.

Personally I thought, and I still think, that I did nothing of importance before the war about which I should be speaking specifically. Other than that my work, published or unpublished, generally speaks for me.

In any case, it is a fact that I rose from a cow herding village boy in Greek occupied Macedonia to a political prisoner in the camps of Beria-Stalin in Siberia... How did I do that?

Well, I was forced to agree with the idea that my personal story is quite unusual and, perhaps, interesting. So, with much encouragement, I decided to tell it...

b) Among other things that I wrote in my biography (memories of my past), I examined the “patriotic” line taken during the CPG Central Committee VI Plenum, held on July 1, 1941. Is there any connection, and can there be a connection, between my biography and the CPG Central Committee VI Plenum?

Of course there is… it is inevitable.

It is a relationship between reason and consequence. The “patriotic” line taken at the CPG Central Committee VI Plenum and the policy led by the CPG leadership in general, at the time when ELAS and DAG were active, were practically the main factors why the democratic forces in Greece were defeated. My actions were conditional on that policy. The consequences of my actions will become clear and understandable only after my reasons are made clear. My reasons and the actions I took are not possible to understand without a clear understanding of the policy that caused them. Therefore I must first talk about the conditions which led me to become a “Macedonian nationalist” and a prisoner in Siberia.

Besides that, through my biography, a person can also become acquainted with many things in Macedonia’s history including the history of the National Liberation Movement, the National Liberation War and the Greek Civil War. There is nothing wrong with that, of course. This book cannot stand on its own without a basis but can be useful material as an attachment to history, a necessary source material for future historians...

c) I started writing the book by referring to my old notes but soon found it to be pretty boring. I resumed writing but this time from scratch. But by doing so, understandably, I missed some important moments. Later, however, I made more notes and added them at the end in the “Attachments and notes… section.”

Pavle Rakovski

I was brought into to this world by an honest family living in the village Dolno Kleshtina, Lerin Region. Dolno Kleshtina is an ordinary village surrounded by orchards and farmland. In a notebook my father Mihail kept, I found confirmation that I was born exactly on May 23, 1913. In their division of the spoils, the invading partners, Greece and Serbia, who together with Bulgaria invaded, occupied and partitioned Macedonia, installed the Greek-Serbian border inside Macedonia equidistantly between Lerin and Bitola. My village was left on the Greek side in Lerin Region a few kilometres away from the artificially installed border.

My grandfather Ilio, my father’s father, and his brother Dedo (grandpa) Dime were pechalbars (migrant workers), and worked as lumberjacks in Vlachia (Thessaly?). They lived in the same forest where they worked but the living conditions there were very poor, especially their diet. They suffered a lot. One time they survived on bread and hot peppers alone for nine days. Bite a chunk of bread and lick a hot pepper. They suffered. When they returned home they built a new brick house alongside the old one. So, I grew up in these two houses. The one unusual thing about them was that they stood two metres apart and were connected by a covered bridge on the second floor...

My father too was a Pechalbar for a while but without much success. He left for America in the spring of 1914 and returned after the end of the First World War. He was not able to save enough money so he left for America again. But because of the economic crisis he was turned back and landed in Cuba. He would have almost died of hunger in Havana had it not been for a Greek man from the Peloponnesus, from the town Gition, who helped him. The Greek man was shining shoes on the street when he first saw my father looking through garbage bins trying to find something to eat. My father looked very thin and barely able to keep his legs moving. The Greek man called him over and asked him to take his place while he went to get something to eat in the restaurant across the street. He told him that whatever he earned while he was away he got to keep. The men rejoiced when they found out that they were both Greek citizens. They decided to stay together. It was easier for both of them. They alternated shining shoes and selling newspapers. When they made enough money they returned to Greece...

All I remember from the First World War were the rumbling of the cannons at the Solun front. I also remember hiding our calf from being taken by various conquering armies that marched through our village. My folks used to cover it up with vines in the corner of the barn...

At last the war ended and the foreign soldiers left. There was peace in the village. But soon after that the Greek police came and opened a police station. I can’t say that they treated the people right. Even today, more than half a century later, I still remember an ugly incident that took place. I saw a policeman beating a man with a whip in the village square. The man tried to defend himself while begging him to stop: “Aman Kirie! Aman Kirie!” (Please Sir! Please Sir!) he kept moaning.

I liked going to school. It was compulsory by law for us so-called “Xenophones” (foreign language speakers) to go to Greek language pre-school for two years in order to learn to speak Greek. We studied in a room of an ordinary village house. In addition to the little benches they provided for us to sit on, there was a large colour painting of the Greek king and queen hanging on the wall. I had never seen such clean and beautiful people. It was nice to look at them. But I quickly became disappointed. I didn’t understand a single word the Greek teacher said. I decided there was no reason for me to go to school and waste my time for nothing. Unfortunately there was the matter of the law to which my parents would have to answer. If I didn’t go my parents would be punished. So my dad did everything to prevent it. He put me over his shoulder and took me back to school. Even today I remember looking at his heels, one after the other, as he moved towards the school...

That was the beginning. But in general, I was a good student… among the best...

My mother Maria was a beautiful and smart woman. Her family did not want her to marry my father, so she eloped. She was determined and restrained. I have never heard her speak her loudly. She found that insulting. She was also a very hard worker. Among other things,

she brought with her forty embroidered dresses. She did the embroidering herself when she was younger.

Dedo (grandpa) Dime was pretty worn out before he died. He had a son who was a priest but his son disliked serving in the Greek church because he neither spoke Greek nor did he want to learn to speak Greek. In time he fled to Bitola and from there he went to Sveta Gora where he probably died. He was his only child. With his son gone and because he was happy with being cared for and well looked after by my mother, old grandpa Dime wanted to put her as the only heir in his will. But she did not want to. At her request, grandpa Dime put his brother Ilio’s two sons as equal heirs - my father and his brother, Uncle Iovan. My mother took care of everyone and kept the peace. She made sure the entire family was well looked after and happy...

The first colonist and settler families from Asia Minor began to arrive in our village in 1924. They occupied the houses and fields of about fifteen Macedonian Muslim families who were violently and forcefully driven out and sent to Turkey. But, even though these driven out families were Muslims for “centuries” they did not understand a word of the Koran. They understood as much of the Koran as we Macedonians understood of the Greek gospel. They were Macedonians who, a long time ago, converted to Islam, not because they wanted to be Muslims, but to improve their living conditions in order to survive. In addition to Macedonian they also spoke a unique but simple Turkish language. When she was a little girl my mother lived next to the home of a Muslim family. The woman of the house would often yell:

“Marie!... Ver saacho preku pleto, mari!...” (Maria!... Pass the saach over the fence, mari!...) (A saach is a dome-shaped iron cover about a foot to two in diameter, used for baking food in the fireplace. A pan would be placed in the heated fireplace and covered with a saach and the saach would then be covered with hot coals. It essentially served as an oven in the fireplace.)

With the gradual loss of our lands to the colonists, we were slowly becoming very poor. At the same time pechalba (migrant work) did not yield much so our family, like many other families, decided to

move to Lerin... We were under the belief that both my father and uncle would be working “like all the other people” in Lerin, we would do fine. We sold our houses and several of our fields and with the money we built a house in Lerin. The construction lasted two years. Sometime in April 1926 we finally became residents of Lerin. Because I did not finish my school year in the village I lost it and had to repeat it. The next school year I began in the first grade in the elementary school in Lerin. Eventually I completed all my primary education in Lerin...

With a horse and a two-wheeled buggy, my uncle Iovan worked as a minicab driver. It was a good job and he was happy doing it but it was not very profitable. My father worked as a cook in America but in Lerin he was unemployed for a long time. In time, my mother became friends with Vlach woman, Mrs. Pitika, whose husband owned a café. Through her, my mother was able to get my father a job as a waiter in that café but for a very small monthly salary...

The two brothers did not last too long to have many children. Today, many years after their death, out of the ten children (each having five), only four are alive. It was a hard life full of poverty for everyone. Eventually the two brothers separated. They divided their house in Lerin but life did not become any easier...

After I finished elementary school, I started working as an apprentice in a shoemaking shop. Three weeks later I left. The boss was unbearable. With Mrs. Pitika’s help I began to work in her brother’s dairy, but only for a month and a half. “That kind of work is not for me,” I explained to my mother and father. I envied the children who were preparing for the entrance exams in the gymnasium. My parents surely must have noticed. One day my mother said to me: “Go apply at the gymnasium (high school), we will find a way to pay for your tuition somehow...” She knew that being the child of a father who had many children and as a “xenophon” (foreign language speaker in Greece or as a Macedonian) I would only be “symbolically” enrolled and would only have to pay for the three month control exam... In other words, my mother did this to make my wish come true knowing full well that I would have a small chance of being accepted, never mind graduate from the Gymnasium.

On September 1, 1929 I made my way into the gymnasium. I swam in happiness... But at the same time I knew we could not afford this because we were poor. But my mother always knew how to save the situation. It was a time when neither my father worked nor my mother was at home… they did not even have enough money to buy me a quill to write with (of course, in those days we did not have pens like we do today). I don’t know how we did it but, despite everything, not only did my parents find the means to pay for my education but I made my way all through the four year program to the final school year 1933-1934. I received an “apolitirion” (graduation diploma); a document that proved I had successfully completed all the courses offered at the gymnasium in the four years...

Sometime during my third year in the gymnasium, a man named Vasiliou, leader of the Lerin Region scouts, approached me and handed me some scout books. He said: “Read them and then decide if you want to become a member.” I read the books and found them to be full with practical and useful things. So that summer I became a scout. But soon I discovered that the scout organization was run by the “bourgeoisie”. The young people I associated with in the scouts reassured me of that. So I left. However, later, I again met the same Vasiliou scout leader but this time he was a DAG fighter (he was fighting against the bourgeoisie and against the Monarcho-fascist regime). A few years ago he came to Skopje from Romania and paid me a visit...

There was a house located between Gorna and Dolna Kleshtina, in an orchard beside the Lerin-Bitola road. This was the home of my teacher Kalaiadzidis. His son Liontis and I were classmates. We finished the gymnasium together. I often visited this family and they loved me. I loved them too. They were very nice to me. Later the entire family took part in ELAS and in DAG. Two sisters died on the same day while fighting. Their parents also died during the conflict. Only Liotis, his brother Socrates and their youngest sister are still alive today. When I was with these people I met Gianis Apostolos from Gorna Kleshtina with whom I became good friends. He was the one who first introduced me to the works of Marx and Engels...

Sometime later, after I left the scouts, my classmate Theoharis Karasavidis suggested that I join OKNE the Communist Youth Organization of Greece. I said no. I am not ready to take on such a responsibility. I can’t and don’t want to leave my parents or my studies just to pursue revolutionary work. He smiled and stopped pushing me. A few days later, after a long walk in the town centre, we returned to Vasilios Mavropoulos’s room “to rest”. Among us were Liontis Kalaihzidis and another person, I believe it was Ioanis Kevrekidis. Here I found out that if you were a Communist you had to belong to OKNE. In other words, you had to be in the ranks of the communist youth in order to be considered a communist. They all had joined the Lerin OKNE cell and none of them had left their parents or their studies. So, sometime in April or May 1933, I too joined and became the fifth member in their cell.

Soon after I finished my schooling, the principal of the gymnasium, a man named Theodoros Kotronis, stopped me on the street. I often talked with him as a representative of my own class or as a representative of the association of classes. But this time he asked me to represent the Lerin gymnasium in a wreath laying ceremony for Pavlos Melas. In other words, he asked me to lay a wreath on behalf of our school on Melas’s tomb in the village Statitsa, where Melas was killed. He said: “It is true that you have now stepped into your own life but you will always be our student. I am sure you will come up with a few suitable words to say when you lay the wreath. I am also sure that you will be a worthy representative of our school.” My gut reaction was to say no but at that very moment I could not find the courage. Even though I did not like doing this, I said yes, I accepted the task. The next morning I found myself in a gathering place among representatives of the military, police, judicial, state authorities, church clergy, municipal leaders, trade union leaders, sport club representatives and representatives of various other associations. An entire column of cars drove off for Statitsa.

It was a great gathering. There were many people in attendance including priests and bishops, army and police officers, serious gentlemen with white collars from Lerin and Kostur, representatives of the rural municipalities from Kostur and Lerin Regions and villagers from the surrounding villages. This was an annual event

known for “honouring the dead”, but in reality it was propaganda intended for the living. So, they were all working under a plan. And it was a good plan that worked...

When the priests were done with the religious part of the ceremony, one of them read a short essay about Melas and his contributions. Then a line formed and a number of people, representatives from the various organizations, each stepped up, said a few words, and then laid their wreath on the grave. I was among them. At one point, a man went up wearing a Greek Andart (fighter for the Greek cause against the Macedonians) dress and then did something unheard of. The man laid the wreath on Melas’s tomb and in front of many Greek officers, officials and ordinary people, gave his speech loudly in the Macedonian language. He said:

“Pavle, my dear Pavle! Do you remember the time when we were together and went to my aunt Iovanitsa’s place, and she gave us warm bread and soft cheese? Oh, Pavle, Pavle!” The man then sighed deeply and ended his speech with the words: “Aide, eonia i mni!”...

Only the last words “eonia” and “mni/mi /” were Greek and very poorly spoken at that. Obviously, the village priest, and in similar cases, these words were often repeated in village cemeteries, so somehow this man had learned them. Walking proudly, he returned to the place where he had stood earlier. Shocked to hear Macedonian being spoken in front of Greek authorities, some women covered their mouths and, like other people, looked at each other with amazement. Some of the Greek officials, looked at the man condescendingly, and frowned. But most showed understanding and smiled proudly. The man wore a Greek andart uniform and was a friend of Melas, the dead leader of the Greek Andarts in Macedonia. I went closer to him and whispered:

“Where are you from Sir?”

“I am from Chernovishta, and you?” he replied.

The man was totally illiterate. He was another Kote from Rulia. How did the Greeks acquire him to fight for them? With gifts, for

sure, just like they had with Kote. They bribed Kote with twenty gold coins then skillfully manipulated him to become a natural rival to his comrade Lazo Poptraikov. The totally illiterate Kote was convinced to betray his educated friend Lazo Poptraikov and his freedom fighters. Kote pointed them out to the Ottoman army and it besieged and liquidated them. By doing so, the Greeks kept the back door open for themselves and Kote, who had nothing to do with the Greeks, became an instant “Greek”. But the people returned the favour in the same way. They pointed out Kote to the Ottomans and he too was arrested and liquidated. The priest Laocon was right when he said: “Fear the Danans (Greeks) especially when they bring gifts!” But the totally ignorant Trojans did not believe him, so their city was invaded, robbed and destroyed along with all of them. Ignorant Kote’s name today is used by the Greeks like a flag. The Greeks renamed his village from Rulia to Kota in his honour! They also raised a bronze monument of him... I look at the man dressed in a Greek andart uniform and all I could think of is his betrayal of his Macedonian native nation and… him being totally unaware of what he had done. The poor man can’t see that he is only a Greek caricature and that he can never be a Greek. I too unfortunately laid a wreath at Melas’s grave and in my speech called him a hero and a soldier in the service of greater Greek interests. “The conditions and goals determine how one acts. One may need to act against their will and conscience under certain circumstances. If they allowed me to be who I really was - a child of a humble people, the Macedonians, I would have acted differently!” This I learned from Gianis Apostolos, a long time ago. He was a communist and a great person. He told me: “Our way of resisting and fighting will change to match the changing conditions…” I believe that to be true.

CPG Secretary General Nikos Zahariadis stood at the top of the CPG with help from the Asfalia (Security service). He was arrested many times and yet many times he was able to escape the hands of the Asfalia. Ivan Karaivanov, a man who for years led the Comintern Personnel Department for the Balkan Communist leadership has noted that the Asfalia and Zahariadis’s tactics strongly resembles those of the Japanese police with their agents in the ranks of the Japanese Communist Movement. In May 1941, Zah/sa took over the Gestapo. The Dachau camp was used as its headquarters where Zahariadis was employed (in a warm, clean and

dry place) as an interpreter and as a supposed organizer of the Communist Greeks, Poles, Germans, etc., to fight against Hitler’s politics at the camp. Karaivanov had no doubt that the time would come when, with help from the documents, Zahariadis’s real role at the Dachau camp would be uncovered. Zahariadis was the only communist leader who was left alive. He was taken over by the English in May 1945. He spent three weeks in London as a guest of the Intelligence Service and then, with a special military plane, his English hosts delivered him to Greece. He landed in Athens on May 29, 1945. But it was not too late to pay them back. Then, at the 12th CPG Central Committee Plenum, the first plenum headed by Zahariadis upon his return, he declared England to be a “great friend” to Greece, and its military and political presence in Greece served Greece’s national interests with regards to its northern borders! This Greek “patriot” and agent of international anti-Communism knew the role of a great communist and played it well. There is no doubt that Zahariadis was well aware of the rules, terms and objectives on how to act. Zahariadis was a prime example of an actor, which should be a valuable lesson for the Greek communist movement.

While writing this I wrote it to express my views about things… about my findings. I wrote it for myself as I remembered it. This is what an autobiography is. Let us continue...

The summer of 1934 was a critical time for me. After I finished my education in the gymnasium (high school) I was not capable of doing any kind of work. Furthering my education was not being discussed. So, where to now?! What’s ahead for me…?

Tired of the hopeless and disparaging situation I found myself in, one day I came home with a head full of dark thoughts. My mother was waiting for me; she called me from the room upstairs to tell me that she had hidden my lunch, boiled potatoes, somewhere in the cellar. I went down to the basement but I couldn’t find where my mother said she had left it. My hungry sisters had eaten all of it. I said nothing to my mother about that. It made no sense. I stood there for a while and then left the basement. My mother must have heard me moving and wanted to know if I was done. “Did you eat?” she asked. “Yes! Yes, I did!” I replied.

The same day I contemplated suicide as my only way out of the emotional mess I was in. I looked for and found my father’s gun. There were five bullets in it. One was already in the chamber. I decided to do it in the basement. But just as I entered the basement I imagined my mother coming in and seeing me there stretched out with my brains blown out. What a blow that would be to her! Even though she had four daughters, the oldest being eleven years younger than me, I was the only son she had and of whom she was very proud. No! I thought. I can’t put her through this… It would be very painful for her. I will endure. I will endure with her, with my father and with my sisters.

This summer I decided to start a light gymnastics training program with my friend Teoharis Karasavidis. We printed several hundred fliers and glued them on the poles around the city. We had over thirty responses. In the two summer months (July and August) we earned over ten thousand drachmas.

With this money I decided to enroll in the Solun Law School. But, as it turned out, it was impossible. The enrollment and examination fees were far more than I could afford. But, before returning back to Lerin, I read in the Solun newspaper “Macedonia” that all schools in Greece had been closed and in their place seven pedagogical academies were opened, one in Solun and the other six in other parts of Greece. Candidates with completed secondary education were being accepted. Enrollment and exams were free.

I had only one worry about this. I found out that the pedagogical academy in Solun was accepting only forty students in all subjects, through entrance exams. The problem was that there were more than four times the number of applicants. So, unless I had an “uncle” to support my application, I figured I had absolutely no chance of getting in... But I decided to try, I had nothing to lose. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try. And who knows, I might get in.

I tried and got in. All I can say is that those who had “uncles” were no better off. In some cases having an “uncle” made the situation even worse. The czarists of Pangalos Tsaldaris’s Populist Party were in power, so the “uncle” as a person of power was the king himself.

Zobanakis, the director of the Pedagogical Academy, however, proved to be a democrat to the bone and did not pay any attention to the pleadings of the “uncle”...

I started my course on September 1, 1934. I did not really want to become a teacher but what else was there for me to do?! I always felt sorry for people who worked as teachers and the miserable lives they led. But in my case it was a fate I could not escape!

The first forty students at the Pedagogical Academy were soon constituted in the “Student Community”. I was a prominent member of that community. I was elected president by secret ballot. In short, I successfully started my life as a student.

Sometime in February 1935, I received my orders to join the military. They were compulsory orders that could not be refused. The old law that foresaw postponement did not take into account the students of the Pedagogical Academy. Of course, it was changed later, but for now I was forced to stop studying and join the army. I went to Athens and reported to the Centre for the Preparation of Reserve Officers in the Greek Army... Sixteen months later I was released from the army with a rank “Antipolohagos”. Passing through Solun I went back to the Pedagogical Academy. Here I found a new director who, if he lived in Italy or Germany, would have been wearing a black shirt. I introduced myself. He said to me: “Ah, that must be you… Sadly, my dear sir, you have no right to re-enroll and attend classes here. Try another place…!”

“On what basis do you say that?” I asked.

“Based on the law, which states that a student who lost two years, one after another, has no right to continue…!” he replied.

“Sorry, but that does not apply to me. I only lost one year!” I said.

But he did not want to hear what I had to say. He said I had no right, and that was that...

I returned to Lerin heartbroken... What do I do now?

But, as it turned out, I found a way out.

By then the thirty year revolutionary struggle was on the rise all throughout Europe. The ruling bourgeoisie was forced to give up its favourite bourgeois democracies and establish open dictatorships. The most dangerous ones existed in Germany, Greece and Spain. The main factor that contributed to the development of the dictatorship in Greece was Macedonia. The CPG won ten parliamentary seats in the Greek parliament in the 1926 elections, six of which were elected in Macedonia, and the other four all throughout Greece. Then, after Elevterios Venizelos’s anti-Communist law “Idionimon” expired, the CPG received about 60,000 votes in the September 25, 1932 elections and contributed ten parliamentary seats. The Left leaning Agricultural Party received about 70,000 votes and contributed eleven parliamentary seats. In total, about 130,000 votes and 21 seats were attributed to the Left. Most of these votes were received in Macedonia. In the upcoming elections on July 1935, the CPG alone received around 100,000 votes. Again, most of these votes were received in Macedonia.

One hundred thousand votes amounted to over one hundred thousand members and supporters that included adult men and women as well as young people who had the right to vote. This was a real army of supporters, the majority of whom were in Macedonia. This kind of force behind the CPG, and still growing, represented a mortal danger to the bourgeoisie. It soon became obvious that Macedonia was becoming the main focus of the revolution...

It was a symbol of dominance of the times, which inevitably and decisively influenced and determined the policies the Greek “patriots” at the top of the CPG leadership and the domestic bourgeoisie would adopt...

It is generally known what happened after that.

On the one hand, the bourgeoisie side decisively took intensive preparations to organize a coup through the establishment of an open dictatorship and through abolishing the people’s democratic rights freedoms in order to prevent the existence and spread of the revolutionary movement in the Greek state...

On the other hand, the Greek “patriots” at the top of the CPG leadership, led by Nikos Zahariadis, through the CPG Central Committee III Plenum and through the CPG Central Committee VI Congress, held in March and December 1935, in a demonstrative manner, put down the democratic rights of the Macedonian people by treating Greek occupied Macedonia as an integral part of the old Greek state and the Macedonian people as an ethnic minority in Greece thus robbing them of their right to self-determination. This naturally was a blow for the Macedonian people given the conditions that the CPG was growing stronger and more influential primarily because of their support in Macedonia. There is no logical explanation for this except to slow down and even reverse the Macedonian people’s support for the CPG (2). This naturally stifled the workers’ movement and, with it, the revolution in Greece. The top CPG leadership’s goal was, as it turned out, to break the hefty sympathy and adherence of the Macedonian people to the CPG, and turn them against the CPG, so that the CPG in Macedonia would be isolated and weakened...

However, as it turned out, it was not possible to take away that which the Macedonians did not have. Macedonians could not lose what they did not have. They had lived under such “distressed” conditions for a long time. The anti-Macedonian decision taken at the CPG VI Congress was not at all felt down on the ground and, practically, nothing changed...

In the meantime, right from the onset, the reactionary dark forces, led by the Gligzburg-Metaxas axis, attempting to organize a coup and to establish a surprise dictatorship, ran into financial difficulties. It turned out that the then capitalist leaders in Greece did not have a good understanding of what was required to implement an open dictatorship and showed no willingness to finance such a venture without their funds being returned. The contemporary press (especially the Party press) often wrote about this, warning the public about the reactionaries preparing for a coup and the impact it would have on their daily lives.

“Give a little now, so that you don’t lose everything later!” was Metaxas’s motto in convincing the capitalists to support him.

But, no one was giving! The work was not done and time was passing by.

And then, the unexpected happened. Stilianos Sklavenas, head of the Group of Communist MPs in the Greek Parliament and member of the CPG Central Committee, announced in the Greek parliament, all over Greece and to the world that the CPG would fight for the Macedonian nation’s recognition and for the Macedonian people’s self-determination! That is for the Macedonian people living in Greek occupied Macedonia!

It was a classic, well-timed, provocative verbal maneuver to get the bourgeoisie propaganda going in the most CRITICAL MOMENT in order to storm the CPG, anathematizing it as the bearer of the “Slavic danger” against Greece. And indeed the CPG’s immense strength and authority made the capitalists think twice about their lack of financial support for the coup.

The CPG leadership, with Zahariadis at the helm, did not hesitate to help out its opposition at this most CRITICAL time. Right after Sklavenas’s announcement about the Macedonian National Question, the CPG took one step further and organized a huge wave of strikes and demonstrations all across Greece. Once again this wave reached its peak in Macedonia, in Solun on May 8 and 9, 1936. Here, the army joined the demonstrating workers and took control of the city (3) forcing the police to retreat and to barricade itself in the police stations. Members of the CPG Central Committee also joined the demonstrations and, on behalf of the CPG, the Communist Group of Parliamentarians and the “Popular Front” (4), read a joint proclamation to the people of Greece which condemned the killings carried out by the Metaxas government and called on Greek people everywhere to follow the Macedonian example in Solun; to unite and fight with everything they had to impose their own will! The killings they condemned were perpetrated by the police who shot at the protesters and, among other things, killed the military commander’s sister. The military commander was a major in the Greek army. He led the Greek army in the joint demonstrations in Solun. Of course, the appointment of this major as

the military commander at the demonstrations was no coincidence and neither was the murder of his sister… They were both set up...

And thus, the goal was achieved. The necessary and non-returnable funds were found in abundance in no time. Otherwise, immediately afterwards, the victory achieved by the people in Solun was quickly destroyed and turned into a reactionary triumph. In effect, Zahariadis and the top CPG leadership sent K. Theos, a member of the CPG Central Committee, to supposedly “negotiate” the capitulation of the uprising with General Metaxas’s government, to allegedly prevent “reprisals” against the demonstrators by the government. In the end the rebel leaders and CPG activists received their directives to send the people home and back to their jobs and the soldiers back to their barracks.

After that Zahariadis made the following comment: “The party did not intend to take power, because organizationally and technically it was not ‘ready’...” The inevitable question that arises from this comment is:

“Then, why did the CPG order the people to demonstrate and declare victory in Solun?”

Let us also say that the CPG did not intend to change anything already established at the VI Congress with regards to the Macedonian National Question, and yet Sklavenas announced at the Greek parliament, contrary to CPG policy, that he was in support of the right of the Macedonian nation to self-determination and secession from the Greek state...

After having formally returned to the bourgeois camp, Elevterios Stavridis, former “CPG Secretary General” (as he called himself), and CPG deputy in the Greek parliament, said: “It is quite clear that the events on May 9, 1936 in Solun were a strategic maneuver taken by Metaxas to justify the establishment of a dictatorship. He used the CPG’s strike movement... Allowed the CPG to lead and pull the masses out so that the capital of Northern Greece would appear to be taken over by the Communists, and when all this achieved his anticipated strategic objective, he counter-attacked... This Metaxas

maneuver was miraculous from a political and strategic point of view!” (5)

Stavridis argued that, while the large demonstrations in Solun were deliberately left to develop until the people united and rose victoriously over the police forces, other major military forces were stationed somewhere outside the city, ready to intervene at a moments notice...

This would have been completely normal, if it were true. But no other military forces intervened. The people’s victory was destroyed and turned into a triumph for the reactionary forces in a more efficient and safe way. In other words Zahariadis, the same person who, through the CPG leadership, pushed the masses onto the streets and managed its activities, not only in Solun but everywhere in Greece, also ordered them to stand down and disburse, and handed them over to Metaxas’s Asfalia and police...

After that a massive hunt for communists followed and many were captured, even as they slept in their beds. CPG cells and Party organizations in Solun and all over Greek occupied Macedonia were thoroughly cleaned out...

Metaxas’s counter-attack, according to Stavridis (and others), was very successful mainly thanks to the infiltrators, like Stavridis himself who managed to occupy a high position in the CPG, but who also worked as an extended arm of the bourgeoisie...

After securing the necessary funds, sometime in June-July 1936, as part of the preparations for the coup, King Georgios II went on a tour in Greek occupied Macedonia. His aim was to suppress the CPG’s strength and authority through influence and by encouraging the anti-Communist forces to fight harder and, above all, to elaborate on the details of the plan of action of how the coup was to be carried out in the Macedonian cities.

The King, of course, also came to Lerin. I decided to take a chance and come out and greet him. I put on my military officer’s uniform and showed up for the reception at the appointed time. I briefly said a few words about how arbitrarily I had been treated by my school

director. I my conclusion I said: “I was inducted into the army to serve my fatherland, and the director punished me for it!” The king looked at the letter I was holding in my hand and asked: “Did you write about this in the letter you are holding?”

“Yes!” I said.

“Leave it with me and don’t worry!” he replied.

He took the letter and put it on the coffee table next to him. He extended his hand. I shook it. He squeezed hard... I noticed a tiny smile on his lips. He gave me the impression that I need not worry.

The coup was carried out during the night of August 3/4. Lerin was boiling with military and police patrols. There were tanks there too. Many arrests took place. I was afraid that I too would be arrested and spent the night in anticipation. By morning I had not been arrested!

I was relieved. This proved that my name had not yet been added to the Asfalia’s black list. A little later I received official evidence of this. I received a letter from the King’s office or perhaps it was from the Prime Minister Metaxas’s office, I don’t remember the details, but my case was resolved in my favour...

I visited the director at the Pedagogical Academy. He greeted me with a wide smile on his face, as if he was looking forward to seeing me. He had also received a letter from the same place. “Who would have thought that you had such ties in high places?” he said clumsily with a smile...

My studies at the Pedagogical Academy took two years. All the students from my generation were gone. The next generation students were now in their second year, but they knew my story. I was accepted as a student by all generations. I was the oldest student in the school. They all sympathized with me.

Soon the old director left and a man named Kokinis took his place at the Pedagogical Academy. He was a fine man and well-educated. With his help I made contact with a director of a gymnasium, and

through him I got a job to tutor students needing help with their subjects. I visited them at home. In February 1937 I fell ill. It was cold and I didn’t have a coat and, while coming back from tutoring one of my students, I got a bad cold. I lay in bed for twenty days. Kokinis gave me 300 drachmas from the Pedagogical Academy’s petty cash and hired the Solun city health inspector, a renowned doctor, who also gave lectures at the Pedagogical Academy, to examine me and prescribe medications. The students also held a fundraiser for me and raised over 200 drams. They often visited me. Their visits lifted my spirits far more than any medicines could and I was back on my feet. But the illness was so exhausting that the first time I tried to get out of bed I only managed to reach the door and fell unconscious. My recovery lasted twenty days...

An OKNE (Communist Youth Organization of Greece for Solun) Conference was held in Solun sometime in May, 1937. It was held outside of the city in a place called Kiuri, not far from the village Azvestohori. The Pedagogical Academy sent two delegates. Myself from the first year and another student, I believe his name was Papargiris, from the second year. The Conference went well and successfully completed its work. In other words, the agents from the Asfalia did not prevent it from achieving its objectives...

I spent my summer vacation in Lerin training young people light gymnastics. With the money I earned and by saving as much as I could, I managed to survive almost the first half of my second (1937-1938) year in the Pedagogical Academy. Unfortunately sometime after I returned to Solun, I got sick again. One fateful day our professor of physical education decided not to do the usual warm up exercises that we did every morning and made us run the one hundred metre dash cold. This was not good for my organism. I came last. I immediately felt sick. I leaned on the wall feeling light- headed and fainted. I woke up in a classroom stretched out on one of the desks. People were rubbing my chest. The worst part about this was that my sister Dimitra got wind of this. While in Lerin, someone told her that “something bad happened to me”. She immediately wrote me a letter asking me to write back and let her know what had happened...

After that my life became even more difficult. My work teaching was scant at best and I became dependent on my parents. Evidently they had to make great sacrifices so that I could finish my studies. I returned home to Lerin in early June 1938 with a teacher’s diploma in my hand and with a higher vocational education. Of course, I immediately submitted an application to the Ministry of Education in Athens. I prayed that I be employed anywhere, but I preferred to be sent to Voden or Voden Region.

During the six months I waited for a response to be employed I worked on an investigative report of a news story. An intellectual went mad and killed his wife because she fell in love with another man! I researched this story and wrote a fairly detailed report about it.

Finally I received some good news from Athens. I got a job! I started working in early January 1939, at the elementary school in the villages Hrida and Tsakones, i.e. in the villages Tsakoni and Bidzhovo Maalo by their Macedonian names. Then, at the request of the district inspector, I was appointed director of the school.