Noose – Chapter 12

Noose – Chapter 12

An Army without a compass: fierce battles between communist officers.

1.

We spent several days in the temporary camp headquarters and then took the road to the front line in Batra Region, due to arrive in two days. High above behind us the sun was sinking in the abyss between two hills. Tired from the day’s journey the sun was melting behind the horizon, sinking behind the mountains, bloody red in colour, looking painful, losing its gleam. Then, just for a moment, the wind blew and lifted itself upwards towards the sky, the earth became dark and the clouds came down low and landed on the earth. The road became invisible and filled with leaves and branches and on it there was nothing else but branches and grey leaves. I am a young man. I am almost nineteen years old. I am a warrior in Marko’s army; my life rests in the hands of those who decide my fate. On my shoulders I carry a heavy burden, but I thank God that I am still alive, though living a meaningless life. I have watched the rain and blowing snow erase everything; there is not even a mark or a cross left to mark the death of my fighter friends. They were killed by the crazy roar of cannons and are now asleep for eternity. Their spirits are free, but ... Their way is illuminated towards the stars where they are headed, never again to return to their mothers... Every day I roam these hills, I have lost my strength and breath. From early dawn till late dusk, like a pursued wolf, my spirit wanders these lands. I get nothing from life but I still have to pay. I am thinking: how much joy belongs in this world? But I do not know where to find the answer! From sunrise to sundown I look up into the sky but my stare is always blurred; there is nothing there for me to discover for today or for the future. Anger is boiling inside of me; I am enraged and very much outraged. But I somehow manage to forget about my childhood, about my friends who were left behind in the battlefields, supposedly for greater things – for my heart, my name and their names, our destiny, our story. But some vague hope of love still keeps me going... Standing beside me is Leonidas counting the prayers for salvation; from torture, from assault, from fraud, from wrongdoing and from lies. He does not know who will give us back our hope and who will show us God’s truth in the midst of this evil… the grim truth, soaked in blood and darkness, hidden in these sunken mounds… In front of us are our enemies aiming their guns at us, both we and they are hungry for each other’s blood. We argue, shout at each other and call each other murderers. Perhaps this evening they will attack... I have an inexplicable fear. A fear of being lost, as if someone else’s thoughts are washing my mind and, in the deep uncertainty, I fall in the dirty soil in the trench, but not by my own will, I then wait for a murderer to stab me with his bayonet. Many times I felt like whimpering like a child. And every day here dug into the trenches, I wait and watch all around me making sure no murderer jumps me. The next morning, a new day begins and the cycle repeats again; we are alive. But I am restless and feel pain, I constantly think of my wounds; are they healing or maybe getting worse? Ten days have passed and I should have changed the dressing a long time ago; those were my orders. I said to myself: “Please God let it be healed or at least scabbed over,” but something was gnawing at me, what if it opens and starts bleeding again? My grandfather used to say: “Hope lies in uncertainty.” With great hesitation and doubt I begin to slowly unwind my bandage while looking at it with a grim look on my face. I am being brave about it but my forehead is moist with sweat. Under the third fold of the bandaid there is a white layer, a white sheet of paper. This reminded me of my blood-brother Stase Donev, when he bound my wound he said: “I am wrapping your wound with a letter and a picture of Elena Bogdanova. I am putting them in a place where it hurts you most so that you will never forget her. You just remember what I said!”

So I said to myself: “My fate is my curse...” and in that same blessed moment I unwrapped the picture of Elena with her sweet smile and, as I look at her, it seemed like she was saying: “Don’t be sad! Don’t let anyone touch your wound! I am your torchbearer and I want to be your medicine exclusively...” I unfolded the piece of paper and began to read the writing on it: “When I sent you this letter I asked a thousand times to see you, to be with you forever. Every night, I feel more lost, more desperate, more bewildered. I can’t wait for the day when I too join the Partisans so that I can find you and be with you. For the first time in my life I feel conscious of myself. I will never forget you. How handsome you were! I will never forget your shy eyes and your long, gentle boyish face. We are almost eighteen years old and do not deserve to be so far apart and so isolated from each other. You were feeling alone! And you left me all alone amid the wild meadows in the village. There are nights when I listen to the wild winds and I think of you out there. Please do not forget me, I will never forget you. I will look for you wherever you are my love… Your Elena. I looked at the rising sun and said: “Never, I will never surrender to despair because of one beautiful military DEATH.

2.

Crawling on our stomachs we approached the plateau and heard constant echoes of machine gun and automatic rifle fire. The moment we reached the top of the plateau between Batra and Golio Kamenik, under the tall beech trees, we came face to face for an instant with the enemy, staring at each other. We were expecting to be shot at by deliberate sniper fire. We were so afraid we were scared of our own footprints. Through the trees we could see a small hill on our left side. There were so many enemy soldiers on it that it looked like an ant hill. Then suddenly we heard Captain Katsis yell: “Charge! Επανοτουη (attack)! We all charged at lightning speed, striking like a pack of wild lions. And without hope, without expectations, we won half the battle. We were greeted with loud bursts of gunfire and explosions, which took our breath away. Bullets whistled over our heads and we all found ourselves in the cross hairs of machine gun fire. We rushed in and began to penetrate through the thick branches. We heard loud voices. All sides were shouting charge, charge and at the same time throwing hand grenades at each other. We heard the voices of wounded calling for help. Fleeing government soldiers were indiscriminately firing at us, mercilessly killing us. It was a blood bath. It would be rare for anyone to have seen so much human blood and so much death in such a short time in this hand to hand combat using bayonet, bursts of gunfire and hand grenades. It was a blood bath and there was a lot of blood. The warm wind from the west was causing us anxiety and was disrupting our concentration. I was very young compared to the headquarters scouts and grew very weary of watching people being killed and from being pushed to kill in order to survive. I was sick and tired of watching people die. Beside me, with his finger on the trigger, was Major Tipadi. The veins on his forehead were swollen and pulsating, as if at any moment his heart was going to explode. I said to him: “It is time to contact Colonel Gianidis and I hope I find him sooner!” I watched government soldiers with swords in their hands stabbing the bodies of the fallen, wounded men as they rushed towards us. I dashed through the thick branches and with incredible speed, very quickly I found myself in Command Headquarters, but the Colonel was at the first front line on the left wing of the front. He was observing the front with a group of officers. I found him quickly with help from his subordinates. I informed him that Major Tipadi required military assistance and that the entire front line sector was under a ring of fire. I then quickly prepared to return with a message for the Major from the Colonel which said: “Action has been taken. It is important that you defend and hold the location because the front line Batra is of utmost strategic importance for the entire front of Gramos.” The Colonel then spoke by telephone with Major General Ipsilantis and provided him with more details. “…our military units were unexpectedly attacked and badly smashed before dawn and I am unable to organize a counterattack. We have sustained heavy losses.” I begged the Colonel to do everything possible to help the new troops in order to prevent the fast pace advance of one of the government divisions and stop it from conquering the highest hill, elevation 2,522 metres, because that hill was one of the most important strategic points in this area. The entire east and west region around the front line could be seen from there. At the end he said: “Yes, the danger will be great if their advance is not halted.” He then gave me a miserable look and became upset. After that I left and ran through the woods to get to Major Tipadi as soon as possible. Rifle fire was becoming louder which meant that the enemy was getting closer. I became confused in the loud noise and for a moment I felt as if I was passing through hell. My fear for my life became stronger than my fear of death. Finally I was back. Major Menelaos Tipadi was lying down quietly but breathing slowly and deeply.

He looked at me inquisitively and shed a few tears. He said: “Give me some water. Water… please...” He had been shot by a powerful “dum-dum” bullet which had a devastating effect at the exit wound. It was around seven o’clock in the morning on August 11th when our unit was heading for the front line at the highest slopes of Mount Gramos near the hills Kiafa and Arena. The thirty year old Major had the heart of a lion but was now struggling with all his might to stay alive as the pool of blood from under him became larger and larger. He reached out to me with his hand and said: “Do not give up on me!” He then swallowed some water and with tears in his eyes said: “Yane, be careful, you are too young for this war.” He then pulled out a picture of his beloved and kept kissing it with passion. After some time he closed his eyes and lay there like a statue made of marble, facing the sun. I sat there staring at him with my head blurred and my heart filled with grief; I did not know what to do.

3.

I was looking at the man as a measure of all things. I realized that no one was going to pass by this damn place, so as distressed as I was, I began to look for branches to cover the dead man’s body. I wanted to prevent his corpse from being nibbled on by the various scavenging creatures. As I searched all I could see were dead, wounded and maimed bodies everywhere. Some were fighting hard to hang onto life, others just bled to death. Now there were no longer lies, truths and physical feats; there was only grey. When the Colonel saw me from the distance, he wanted to yell at me but when he saw me drenched in blood, he lost his voice. With tears in my eyes I said: “The Major is dead, he died fighting fearlessly.” Looking sad, the Colonel bowed his head, gave me a hug and expressed his condolences. We passed through the trenches and then stopped to look at the hills of Gramos, specifically at the tops of Kiefa and Moro. Sitting and looking at the sky the Colonel, with a bitter tone in his voice, said: “I would love to talk to all the fighters who left their bones here under the sky in front of this great legendary mountain. They died bravely under my command. We are all Partisans without helmets, without hats and with the wind waving our black and blond hair.” Now our forces were pulling out, the Colonel could see that for himself. He looked at the clock and said: “Everyone is aware that we lost the battle, there is no need to speak of that, the question now is how can we pull out quickly with minimum casualties?” Our fighters were leaving and many had their heads and body parts wrapped in red bandages. The wounded relied on each other for help to pass though rough terrain. Some were praying and others were just crying. The nurse frantically ran from one wounded person to another to give them first aid. Then suddenly, I was amazed to see Vioreli Dzindzif, the hypochondriac, behind the bushes. Vioreli Dzindzif was one of those people who had lived in fear of everything all his life. He was obsessive about all sorts of illnesses and always magnified the normal feelings in his body. Now he was here behind the thickness of the trees, coming out as if leaving some headquarters laboratory. He was standing tall and armed with a “Thompson” machine gun, looking as if his fears and troubles had left him. “Blood brother, be strong!” he yelled out looking at me and continued: “Oh, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He then made some strange gestures with his hands and said: “I was looking at these six ‘Burandari’ (Greek government soldiers), moving their hands fast trying to clear the thick branches. I hid behind a bush and carefully pushed my rifle barrel through the dense branches. I aimed it at them and then remembered what Arianos had taught us; ‘Kill a few so that you can become bold and not be a coward’. So of course I did. What do you think?” He paused for a second. I did not reply. He continued: “The Burandari barely made a dozen steps before I cut them down to pieces. I took this machine gun from them, see? And do you know what the Detachment Commissar said in front of the detachment that mocked me only yesterday? He said; ‘Well, you saw for yourselves. This is how you come to own a perfect machine gun. Each machine gun obtained this way is a win for us partisans of General Markos’!” Well, in the case of Vioreli Dzindzif our “human behaviour experts” were totally wrong. They were unable to predict whether he was a good person or a good for nothing person. It is true that they spent a lot of time attempting to prove that he was a bad person, a capitalist, because he liked gold, but Vioreli proved them wrong, as it turned out, he was a hero after all and a man true to our ideals. It was now quite clear that Vioreli, for this feat, was expecting to receive some sort of promotion in Markos’s Army. But after he did get a promotion to corporal he became arrogant and hardly indulged in conversations that did not favour the revolution. One day, perhaps unconsciously, we began to ask ourselves where all this evil and spiritual ugliness came from?

Why must ugliness emerge in place of beauty and, with its cruelty, ruin our lives in this unique world of Gramos. Perhaps there is another life, another world, behind this life and behind this world? I often sat and wondered why Vioreli had become somewhat hardened and less mysterious, less sensitive and more evil and rude? But as I understand it, someone helped him accept this new life as we lived it here between pride and anger and not believing in a good and omnipotent God.

4.

We began to read the morning bulletin that had just come out of the wire. First Breaking News: Colonel Georgios Gianulis killed. The Lion of Gramos (that’s what we all called him), the hero of the Democratic Army, was killed in a brave and heroic fight in one of the most important battles of Gramos. Second story: The legendary General Markos, Supreme Commander of DAG, is very ill. The Politburo and the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Greece have decided to send him to the USSR where he will be treated and will stay until he fully recovers. The Politburo decided to relegate General Markos’s responsibilities to Nikos Zahariadis, General Secretary of the Party. “Do you know why?” asked Leonidas. “No!” I said. “Because here at Gramos there should only be one omnipotent god but none of the communists understand that. Don’t you think that’s true?” he asked and waited for my confirmation with his mouth open... “Maybe it’s all done in the name of justice,” I replied leisurely. “Do you think so? Or perhaps this is done under some crude calculation…?” he asked.

* * *

It was the second half of August 1948 and Gramos was engulfed in battles. Major General Ipsilantis, the other day, after the fall of Batra to enemy hands, received a letter from General Gusias, commander of the 670th Army Military Division of Gramos. Written in the letter was: “Να συλλάβεις, να δέσεις και να στείλεις το Γίαννουλη στην έδρα.” (You are to arrest, tie down and send Gianulis to Base Headquarters.) Just as he unfolded and read the letter Ipsilantis became furious and restless because he was convinced that “the top leadership” was going to execute this celebrated leader. He found himself in a terrible dilemma; to follow the order or not? His conscience told him not to follow the order because Colonel Gianulis was a true hero and a personal friend. He had known him for a long time and together they had fought many terrible battles. On the other hand, it was his duty to execute the order, especially since it came from a senior military commander and from right here at the front. He wrestled with his dilemma for about 15 to 20 minutes, pacing back and forth, but finally he arrived at a decision. He decided not to arrest him. “I am not going to arrest him, bind him, or deliver him. I am not even going to answer such a letter and I don’t care what happens!” said Ipsilantis. He felt much better after having decided. Concerned about what had happened, his friends and associates from General Headquarters wanted to know what had happened and why he was so upset? One of them asked: “What happened? Why are you so upset?” They had not seen him get so upset even during the worst battles. Ipsilantis explained the situation and after he told them about his decision they all appeared to be happy. The same day Gianulis left and went to visit the front line in some isolated place in Kiafa locality. Also the same day Gusias, General Colonel Lambros Kanaridis and a group of guardsmen caught up with Colonel Gianulis, arrested and tied him down. His fiancée, who at the time was with him, was in shock. She sat beside him, placed her head on his shoulder and refused to leave. Afterwards they took them to the Army Base at Division 670 Headquarters. At headquarters, Gianulis locked eyes with newly appointed General Gusias but felt very uncomfortable and lonely. Gusias, staring down at him, kept asking why he was still waiting and why would his conscience not allow him to beg for forgiveness, or beg to be pardoned. The Colonel felt humiliated in front of Gusias and, looking at Gusias’s rigid, grey face, was filled with disappointment. What was happening to Colonel Gianulis was unbelievable; from the moment that he was suddenly grabbed he was directly told that a court martial awaited him. Up to that moment Gianulis’s military career was spotless and climbing towards a promotion to General, accompanied by many medals for bravery. The Colonel was not only brave but had truly earned his rank, which he deserved, but now no one knows what had happened to him or to his fiancé. When Ipsilantis found out about this he said: “Boys, we will no longer be able to see Gianulis.” Eight or nine days later, Ipsilantis received a phone call and was invited to attend a meeting at General Headquarters. All military officers attending were greeted personally by Zahariadis and Bardzhiotas, his political commissar, as they entered the large barracks. Ipsilantis was greeted with the words: “General Ipsilantis, please explain why you disobeyed General Gusias’s orders?” Looking directly at the Leader the General said: “Which order Comrade Nikos? That was an ordinary request, not a military order.” The Leader looked straight into his eyes. Ipsilantis knew that such a look meant that the Leader did not trust him. The Leader was not satisfied with the answer and, with a firm tone, said: “It was an order, not an ordinary request! Shame on you General! You were rash and went too far with your ambitions. Your stubbornness could cost you... Don’t mess with us… We are much more informed about things than you think,” and as he finished talking he continued to stare at the general.

At that moment Gusias approached. Gusias was a short, bald man in his forties with a round head. He was wearing a new General’s uniform. Then, after looking at Ipsilantis, his lips distorted in a scornful way and after attempting to smile, said: “You talk too much, Ipsilantis, when you know you should be keeping quiet!”

* * *

Upon my return from the trial with headquarters intelligence officer Georgios Furkiotis, I learned the truth about Colonel Gianulis’s execution, which he carefully described to me. Then Ipsilantis (ΑΛΕΧΗΣ ΡΟΣΙΟΣ -Υψιλάντης) wrote it as follows: “Η δολοφονία τον Γιαννου'λι και η θεία δίκη. Και τωρα, ας ιδου'µε τον επίλογο της δολοφονίας τον Γιαννου'λι στις 20 Αάγου'στον 1948 όπος µου τον αφηγήθηκε µάρτυρσς ο αξιωµατικός πγηροφοριών της 670 Μονάδας ο Γιώργος Φουρκιώτης. “Σε µια µετακίνηση τον Επιτελίου της Μονάδας σε µια στάση, ο θησέας Σαρή (ασφαλώς Σαρή τον Γου'σια) τον εριξε µια πιστολιά απο πισω, και ο λεβέντης ο Γιανουλης ο έπεσε αι µοφυρτος... Τότε,” συνχι'ζει ο Φουρκώτης, “λέ στον Επίτροπο της Μονάδας Κναφαρίδη Λάµπρο, ‘τι είναι αυτά Λαµπρο, που γίνοντ’... ‘Παψε, χαζέ’ - µου λει ο Λαµπρος – ‘θα φας και συ το κεφάλι σου’...” (“In a move of the Headquarters of army division 670, during a break, Tiseos Saris (by a certain order from Gusias) shot Gianulis at close range from behind and Gianulis the hero fell covered in blood... Then,” continued Furkiotis, “I asked Lambros Kanakaridis the army division political commissar, ‘What are these things Lambros? What is happening to us fighters?’ He replied: ‘Silence you fool, because you will also lose your head’…”