The Great Decline – Chapter 13

The Great Decline – Chapter 13

“This is my squad…” he complained. He opened his left hand and one by one he curled his fingers. “Eight have tuberculosis... Five are spitting blood... Twelve have wounds that haven’t healed… Are the doctors in those hospitals blind?” he asked. “I am telling you they sent them back here too soon. Most have open wounds. I can’t do anything with them. They are no good for lifting logs, building bunkers, digging trenches… I don’t think they are even capable of carrying a shovel… Eighteen old men are holding the position on the left there, on that hill. They have been here for a while… most of them are frail and waiting for their time… Some were brought here from Albania; from the refugee camps… they were forcibly mobilized. They spent most of the winter and spring digging trenches and building bunkers. The bunkers are covered with five to eight layers of wood and stone. They are thick, built with ten metre long beech and pine wood logs. Where did these men find the strength to do this, especially in the winter, in the cold, in snowstorms and in avalanches, working long hours? We have endured this long mainly because of their sacrifices and the effort they put into building these deep and strong trenches and bunkers. These poor guys are now so weak they can’t even hold their own urine. And you know what’s sadder than that? I ordered them not to pee inside the trenches. You see that guy over there? He is coming back from urinating… Now he is going back… He must have forgotten something.... Even before their eyes are closed some of these guys begin to snore… you can hear them snoring all the way here... I ask you, is this a squad? And to think that a few days ago command sent me orders that read: ‘To strengthen the fighting spirit of the newly arrived fighters, who voluntarily joined the Democratic Army of Greece, the officer responsible for cultural and educational work, during their leisure time, must teach them to sing revolutionary and combat songs. For that purpose we are sending you a book of songs, included in which are many songs from the famous Red Army repertoire.’ What songs! What free time? We have barely enough time to sleep… with all the planes flying and dropping bombs on us, the artillery shelling us, the infantry attacking us all day long and then having to repair and rebuild trenches and bunkers all night long… day in and day out… who has the time to learn new songs? In conditions such as these there is only one order: ‘Work fast!!!’ And you see my fighters, I feel sorry for them... I feel sorry for them because I have to order them around in their condition… But I am their commander… some commander. You see that guy over there? Do you see him? The guy who is leaning… who is now yawning… yes that guy… that poor guy constantly naps. He naps and snores. Snores with his eyes open. And you don’t know if he is actually sleeping or snoring in defiance... Give him a minute and see what happens. See? What did I tell you?”

“What is he doing?” the other man asked the commander.

“He is peeing. He is peeing inside the trench, that’s what he is doing. He is not allowed to pee inside the trench, yet there he is peeing inside. I told him he could pee outside, without exiting the trench, but not inside. I ordered them for their own good… Not that they will stay in the trenches forever, but… I should not be saying that because some, may God forgive their sins, have been killed inside those trenches. One time a bullet or piece of shell struck one of the fighters on the head and killed him instantly inside the trench… We buried him right there and then… inside… do you think we had enough time to take him outside… and sing hymns for him? Fighters frequently remain where they fall... sometimes forever. If it is snowing their dead bodied get covered with snow and are difficult to find. If there is an interruption in the battle and we are ordered to suddenly move we leave the dead behind. This happens more frequently that you think! It’s as simple as that. The mountains are littered with the dead bodies of our fallen. When we fall, we fall. Glory to our fallen! Some day in the future we will say something good about them, about their sacrifices… about their lives… Just to give you an example, yesterday I ordered these guys to inspect the defense line, there was absolutely no movement, but still they disobeyed my orders. Even with no activities on the line, several days ago two of my men were wounded… Now they won’t go out at all… It must have been some trigger happy bastard who did this… who doesn’t like us. He probably watched us with his binoculars and when he saw a bunch of old men loitering around the trench he decided to use them for target practice. And my fools here decided to go do their business just outside the trench in open space. As they were squatting, unfortunately one of them was hit in an embarrassing spot on his body... The poor man was screaming at the

top of his voice. After we bandaged him his pain subsided but he still cried and cried. Later he got mad and began to yell:

‘Oh, that bastard, may he rot in hell... why did he have to shoot me there? Why did he not shoot me in the head? At least he would have saved me from my misery... Where am I going to go now with a bare ass, eh? Why did he not kill me, why did he have to shame me?’

All of us tried to console him. One of the guys even promised to take revenge. He said: “Don’t fret my friend, I will go out there, find the guy and avenge your ass…”

You know something…” continued the unlucky commander, “in our vocabulary for whatever wrong our opponent does to us, the first word we say is ‘revenge’... I am telling you, I have two sick people. They were burned in a fire... I reported their condition to command by telephone yesterday. I told command that they were badly burned and needed to be treated in a hospital. And do you know what they told me? They said: ‘Only the wounded get treatment, others do not… they will be okay…’ That’s what they ordered. You see the guy sitting under the tree? He is another sick person. He sits like that all day long… He has been lying there for two days now… in a daze… He ate something green, immature… probably poisonous and it is making him sick… keeping him under. I called command about him too and they told me to leave him here, at his post… A few days ago another guy died on me. He roasted some mushrooms on the coals and ate them. Next thing you know he was in pain, terrible pain. Before he died, he cried and cried and begged me to hold his hand… Imagine, a person dying from eating mushrooms!

Why don’t we now go to his grave and say a few words and then you can write something for that report of yours and let everyone know how heroically he laid down his precious life before the altar of freedom. How about we let them know how he messed up the entire trench with vomit and... with other kinds of smells… The place still stinks to high heaven. So, since you are so clever, then tell me what should I write to higher command? That everyone in my unit is a hero? That they heroically… What kind of hero would dirty my trench?

Look friend, I feel like I am being punished here, but I don’t know why, I just do not know... The position?! Well, we held this precious position for twenty-six days. Once in a while they send me one or two new fighters from the refugees in Albania and I am telling you, I am running out of the originals I started with. Day by day they are numbering less and less. We are in trouble… big trouble. They don’t follow my orders… What am I to do? Yell at them? Yell at men with tuberculosis? Yell at men with open wounds and with puss running out of them? Should I be forcing the sick to dig and carry boxes of ammunition? Should I be forcing those who piss blood to go and repair bunkers? Should I be sending those who are spitting blood to fetch water? …No one wants to know my problems… my pain…

While I am at it, let me also tell you that I have seven young women… girls… in my squad. I have not heard a single complaint from them. Amongst them there is one who is still a child, I swear to you... A few days ago one of them wanted to leave but the guard spotted her and so did some others from the other side. We took shots from this side and they took shots from the other side. I ordered my men to go after her. Two of my fighters went after her and half an hour later they reported: ‘We caught the deserter but she is wounded…’ What was I to do? I ordered her to go to the hospital. When high command found out, I got a phone call and a lot of yelling, screaming, cursing and swearing. They threatened me with court martial and to shoot me if I did not execute her. How do I execute an eighteen year old girl? Please tell me… how?

My reply to those yelling at me on the telephone was: ‘Comrades, there is always time for executions, do you think I am going to forget this incident?’ And their reply was: ‘You should have executed her there and then, in front of the entire squad, to remind the rest of them of what happens to those who are caught deserting.’ Then they said: ‘Listen and listen good, when she returns from the hospital you are to execute her... You understand?’…”