BROTHERHOOD UNITY - Part 06

The area near the seat of the Democratic Army of Greece’s (DAG) General Headquarters and the area in front of the cave and everywhere around it were secure and tightly guarded. It was two o’clock in the morning and the Military Council was gathering for a meeting. Included among it were members of the Military Council, the General Staff and the commanders of major military units deployed in Vicho. Zahariadis was chairing the meeting. Inside, hanging on the front wall was a large map. In a confident voice of a sure winner, Zahariadis began with his opening speech. “Great battles are coming to Vicho. Unwilling to admit their defeat, the Monarcho-Fascists are now forced to fight by initiating a major offensive at Vicho because otherwise they will lose ‘the eggs and the basket’.” This was one of Zahariadis’s favourite sayings that he would express whenever someone wanted to undermine him or present him as incapable. He paused for a moment and looked at his audience. There were shadows of smiles on people’s faces with a touch of intense looks. He continued: “Our enemy is losing the war and the peace. In places where he wanted to show courage and claim victory, he must admit that he was incapable of overpowering the Democratic Army. And precisely for that reason he is forced to come to Vicho. It is now a matter of pressing need, political and military, as well as moral. And therefore whether he wants to or not, he will have to drink from the bitter cup called Vicho. We need to take this to the end; the destruction of Monarcho-Fascism in Vicho which will be the beginning of his end. The Monarcho-Fascists are incapable of carrying out intense and continuous military actions this year not like they did last year - four months of continuous Gramos and Vicho campaigns. This year all winter long and during the spring we will not allow them to rest. There are all kinds of indications that their morale is low to the final frontier... Now more than ever, military morale will be very low because they are in a state of worry... Here lies one of the most important reasons as to why they will not lead any battles in Gramos this year. They will not again open themselves to significant bleeding or expose themselves to trauma like fear frozen soldiers when they hear the word ‘Gramos’. Based on the above, I came to the following conclusion: despite the poor state of morale the Monarcho-Fascist is forced to lead a major campaign at Vicho. If he does not undertake such a military campaign he will have to accept defeat. We have but one task to accomplish here -destroy him at Vicho. And we will destroy him. To achieve this, it is imperative that we engage him in small battles to further erode his morale. In that regard Gramos gives us fantastic daily examples, but it should be mentioned that the major achievements will be at Vicho. There, with a strong defense when it is needed, we will force him to bleed to exhaustion. With a firm defense we will hold him back and then with an element of technical reversal we will counterattack. We also need to acquire more troops. We can do this by providing enhanced education, organizational and political work inside the Monarcho-Fascist army, where events will be taking place because exactly there is one of our most crucial reserves. Anyone who today does not understand this is making a big, a giant mistake. Can anyone imagine what it would be like when, at a critical moment, an entire enemy battalion rebels? Having a battalion rebel today is not an abstract concept but a possibility. We have many examples of this. A soldier refusing orders to go to battle is a daily occurrence for the simple reason that the soldier is already soaked in blood. He does not want another war. His view is directed towards his home not towards a coffin. We know what the soldiers thought when they put a time bomb in the luggage of Kotsalu and he was liquidated together with the plane in which he was traveling. They thought that for the duration required to replace him with his deputy they would have 15 to 20 days rest.

And that was gain for them. And that is the way the soldiers thought. Why not find hundreds and even thousands of soldiers in Vicho who would try to gain 15 to 20 days of peace, life and a return to their homes? They can be found. Suffice it to say that we will help them. With a strategic counterattack from all sides, and we do have such abilities, it is okay to believe in the fact that we will firmly hold Gramos and at the right moment, perform a twist on the Monarcho-Fascists. The enemy will come to Vicho, mainly with Search and Destroy units (LOK) and with a great aviation and artillery force. But, unlike last year, the question now is whether they can endure more than a month of fighting. Meaning, the great battle will have to be settled in 20 to 30 days. That is why we need to be ready all around, militarily, practically, technically, politically, morally and materially. And in fact, we are ready. We anxiously await our enemy. There is a need for intense effort from all of us. We all need to take part in the great battle. We all need to be active. Everyone needs to respond with great honour in the protection of Vicho, accordingly, all without any distinction. We will break the enemy on Vicho and we will not let him pass...” The last words spoken by Zahariadis aroused the audience into a hand clapping frenzy. Gusias stood by the military map, tapped the map handle several times with his pointer and when the audience calmed down, he began his presentation: “Comrades, the General Headquarters, in close cooperation with the Military Council, has prepared a plan in defense of Vicho and set the following objectives to be achieved in two phases. The first phase will provide defense of the free territory in the spirit of the slogan ‘the enemy will not pass Vicho’. In its good judgment, DAG Headquarters, in March of this year, issued an order to build strong fortifications in Mali-Madi, more precisely on the Buchi-Orlovo-Sveti Atanas line (elevation 1,186) continuing on the hills between the villages Kosinets and Labanitsa along the Albanian border. The line continues west of Orlovo establishing a link to Rabatina and Buchi extending up to the rocks above the village Smrdesh. The aim, at all costs, of this section of the front is to prevent enemy penetration into the village Smrdesh from where - this can only be an unreasonable assumption – the enemy would try and take the Smrdesh-Zhelevo-Psoderi road with military vehicles and tanks. This will mean cutting the free territory into two parts with disastrous consequences for us. We are well established north of Mali-Madi in the Polenata-Kula-Plati line of hills extending to the Roto-Baro and Iamata line. This is our central front behind which, similarly, we have built strong fortifications in Lisets and its southern approaches and in Moro, Chuka and Iorgova Glava north of Lisets. This is the second defensive line that should ensure free flow of communications and supplies to the front along the road Smrdesh-Zhelevo-Psoderi. At the north end, at the Yugoslav border, which as you know is now closed, is the chain of hills called Bela Voda. The fortifications here connect the Bigla-Lundzer line to Kulkuturia hill, elevation 1,694, northwest of the village Neret. This is our northern front whose aim is to stop enemy attacks from Lerin. The area west of the road Smrdesh-Zhelevo-Psoderi is not without significance. Here is our third line of defense whose aim is to protect the approaches to the valley of Prespa. But, comrades, the stated facts are not our main strength. Our main strength is well established in the field and it is very important, and perhaps more important is our fighting spirit and strong belief in victory. Behind us is the great practical experience that we gained from last year's struggles. The Gramos retake in April, the successful struggles in Mali-Madi in September, the destruction of the 22nd enemy brigade, the deep penetration behind our opponent and the capture of the strongly defended cities Karditsa-Karpenisi-Negush, the reorganization of our troops, the improvement of our clothes, food and weapons supplies.

These are all factors that will ensure our victory. In regards to the upcoming battle for Vicho we will need about twenty days to endure the enemy blow. We will need to nail him down at his starting position and force him to lead positional warfare during which, with our defensive-offensive tactics, we will deal him a huge blow in manpower, material and technical losses which will break his morale, then when we are good and ready we will go on the attack. I visited all our positions. I visited and spoke with all the commanders of the larger units and with some commanders of the smaller units. I found the entire sector to be ready. I want to underline with acknowledgement that there is not a dot anywhere that is not under our watchful eye. Everything that needs to be seen from the bunker gun hole is at the centre of our view. When I observed the terrain and everything that is there, I had a serious thought - is it possible for anyone living to pass unnoticed? Is it possible to break such a defense as this? Is it possible for even a bird to fly unnoticed? The experience in Gramos has taught us how to defend ourselves, how every hill, how every stone and boulder, every corner, are literally, to make a point... the Vicho sector, comrades, is a large fortress. It is now up to all the command units, from the smallest to largest, to make this fortress invincible. We have all the opportunities here to break the enemy and, at the appropriate moment, switch to a counter offensive,” concluded Gusias confidently, taking a sip of water from his glass he asked: “Are there any questions?” “Comrades,” replied Bardzotas, Political Commissar of General Headquarters, “Zahariadis’s report is sufficient guarantee of our victory. Any question you pose now would take valuable time…” Gusias, who was still standing beside the operational map, spoke: “I have only presented the actual state of our defense. But I have the impression, comrades, that we haven’t sufficiently analyzed all possibilities from where the enemy may strike. According to my observations and assessment, the most likely place our opponent will first attack is Bela Voda, elevation 2,156, from the direction of Lerin in order, of course, to break down our defense of Prespa. This is the shortest route to Prespa. Here,” Gusias hit the map with his fist, “this is where our opponent will close the road to stop us from our eventual departure...” “Will this be a scheduled departure?” asked the XIV Brigade commander in charge of the defense line Lundzer-Bigla-Bela Voda. “Of course not, but...” replied Gusias as they all noticed his chin trembling. “Continue!” requested Zahariadis. “Yes. Comrades, the opponent will consider whether to attack here or to target other sectors. According to my thinking, I came to the conclusion that because the Mali-Madi sector would be a hard nut to crack for the opponent and because we made an impenetrable defensive wall at Bela Voda, which no doubt would be further from the opponent’s consideration, then the question to ask is ‘where will he strike?’ Take a look,” continued Gusias covering that part of the map with his palm, “here is Bigla and Lundzer. It is not difficult to see that this is the middle, the middle between Mali-Madi and Bela Voda. Here,” Gusias raised his voice and hit the map with his hand, “he will attack exactly here! Why exactly here?! Because if he breaks through the Bigla defense, where we have situated a Positional Battalion, think of our battalion, composed of experienced and hardened fighters, all lost, then the loss of this defense will introduce tanks and they will occupy the Lerin-Psoderi-Zhelevo road...” When Gusias spoke about Lerin, the audience noticed that he was losing his voice. For him Lerin was a nightmare and the mere mention of that name gave him chills. He was one of the architects of the Lerin battle in which DAG suffered catastrophic losses. The approach to Lerin was a slaughter house, a suicide mission with horrific consequences.

“Bigla-Lundzer, elevation 1,922,” Gusias continued, “needs to become the new strong fortress. The opponent needs to be made to bleed here. I repeat, if our opponent breaks through Bigla and Lundzer then he will break our entire defense. Therefore we should devote most of our attention…” “And Lisets? What about Lisets hill?” interrupted the commander of Division X. “Lisets? Look at the map,” suggested Gusias. “Do you see how far it is from the first line of defense? There are well established defenses before Lisets located on the hills in the Plati-Kulata-Roto-Polenata-Baro-Iamata line and south to Mali-Madi…” Zahariadis halted Gusias’s explanation, slowly stood up, turned to the map and, after tapping it with his finger, began to count: “We need to break the enemy here, here, here and here. And you, why do you worry so much about Lisets, what about Lisets?” “I comrades,” the Division X Commander straightened himself, “do not know all the hills from the map which comrade Zahariadis just pointed out, but every hill and brook, stone and boulder I have traveled and I know them by sight, I have passed over them on foot. It is very important for our defense, I would say most important, to know where our opponent will attack and exactly why there…” “Here, here, here and here,” Zahariadis again tapped the map with his finger. “I don’t doubt you, but why there?” asked the Division X Commander. “My thinking is that he would attack at the centre but his main goal will be to take Lisets. He will do everything to take Lisets. And if he succeeds in taking it he will have us in his palm. The entire region is visible from the top of Lisets. He who holds Lisets under his control holds everything around it…” “That is your opinion,” interrupted Gusias, “you’ve had your say and we understand your concerns. So, comrades, we have a very strong defense, that is why it will be very hard for our opponent to take that damn Lisets. Isn’t that right?” “Maybe it’s like that,” continued the Division X Commander, “but I still say Lisets is the key. If Lisets falls then our entire solid defense will fall, comrades and…” Zahariadis interrupted before the commander could finish what he was saying. “Comrades, in these trying days we don’t need faintheartedness. Are there any more questions and opinions?” There were no more questions and no one answered the questions already asked. The Great Lie – Chapter 18

Last year, all through the fall, at the foothill of Lisets, opposite the village Kolomladi, in the thickest clump of old oak trees, secretly at night, around one hundred trusted villagers from the surrounding villages, in shifts and under the leadership of Risto, dug a large network of bunkers with branching tunnels. Again during the night for months, caravans of horses and mules driven by old women and men, transported weapons, ammunition, clothing and food from warehouses in Rula, Trnava and Oshchima and filled the tunnels in Lisets. The approaches to the tunnels were well guarded by crippled fighters brought there from the hospitals in Albania and Yugoslavia. Their commander was also crippled. On the other side of the road, between Dolna Statitsa and Kolomladi, under the shade of a branching walnut tree was a water spring. A man kneeling on his one knee filled his palm with water and splashed it on his face. Risto got closer, and before removing his backpack from his shoulder, he greeted the man. “Good day” said Risto. The man raised his head and looked at Risto. “Good day” he answered and continued to look at Risto with a surprised look in his face. “Do we know each other or am I wrong?” the man spoke slowly without taking his eyes off Risto’s face. “You look familiar… Wait… the moustache… I used to know someone with a fancy moustache… like yours… is that… is that you Risto?!” “Yes it is me…” answered Risto. They hugged and in their long and tight embrace memories began to unfold… “Do you remember, Risto, you carrying me when I was wounded at Ivan Mountain? I am in your debt. You saved my life.” said the man. They were in the same unit fighting the Italians in 1940 at the Albanian front during the Greek-Italian war. “And you Stoian, do you remember looking after me at the prison camp when the Greek gendarmes beat me to pulp?” replied Risto. A year after the war ended, in gratitude for fighting to save Greece from the Fascists at the Albanian front, the heroic fighters were sent to prison at the concentration camps on the island Ai Strati. Then after the coronation of king Konstandinos to the Greek Royal Throne, the sick, the invalid and the adolescent prisoners were amnestied. Among them were Risto and Stoian. They sat down. Risto noticed that Stoian’s left sleeve was empty. Pointing at it with his eyes, Risto asked: “And that?” “That is my reminder of last year…” replied Stoian. “Where?” inquired Risto. “At Gramos… more precisely at Gorisha… yes…” Stoian exhaled noisily a long sigh. “When they released us from the prison camps, I didn’t go home. Ever since the police in Kostur interviewed me and gave me a mandatory order to report to them every third day, I left the city, and during the night, I took the road to the mountains, to the Partisans. There too they asked me many questions and kept me under watch. They didn’t believe my story, and here I thought they would welcome me with open arms. I guess they finally realized I was not the person who they thought I was, the heavy machinegun gunner they were looking for, so they gave me a job to lead horses. I led horses for a long time sometimes loaded with ammunition, other times with food, pots, caldrons and sometimes I held the horses steady so that the unit commanders can get on them. One night, the second platoon had returned from battle during which they had seized a heavy machine gun. So now the unit had a heavy machinegun but not a gunner. The unit commander admired the big gun and caressed it with both hands, complaining: “Ah, dam, now if I only had a gunner!” “I approach him and quietly asked: ‘Comrade Commander, will you allow me?’ He looked at me menacingly, took out his pistol and yelled: ‘If you wreck it I will kill you!’ ‘Don’t worry’ I said quietly, kneeled down, lay my coat on the ground and, like a miracle, rapidly dismantled the entire machinegun into pieces. I then took my shirt off and with it I cleaned all the parts and rapidly put the pieces back together.

And from that day forward the commander took away my horse strap, promoted me to machinegun gunner and hurried to inform high command that he now had a heavy machinegun and a smart gunner. My promotion was approved and I was transferred to Gramos. We loaded the heavy gun on a horse and ten of us left that evening. They sent us to a battle position at Kopanche. There were bunkers there to the left and to the right everywhere with five, six and even more rows of thick logs. They were well camouflaged. It was a well established defense line spanning along Sveti Ilia, Gorusha and Krusha hills and beyond up to the Albanian border. On June 16th, last year, before dawn, we were attacked by airplanes. They pounded us for twenty minutes and just as they left we came under cannon fire. They pounded us at a fast rate in rapid fire volleys. The artillery barrage lasted thirty five minutes and just as they were done, we were attacked by the infantry. During the course of that day we repelled four attacks. By the evening, before sunset, it was all quiet again. Orders came from Command to repair the damaged bunkers and trenches. In the night we were again pounded by cannon fire. In the morning, precisely at 5 o’clock, the airplanes came back and pounded us again, same as the previous day. By the afternoon we were forced to withdraw to the second line of defense at Sveti Ilia and Krusha. They did this everyday until June 22nd but could not remove us. That day the airplanes came shortly before noon. They did not drop bombs or fire on us with their machine guns. First they flew low then high and we could see barrels being dropped from not too high above our positions which exploded about fifty to a hundred meters above us. Fire and flames fell on us. Everything began to burn. Everything burned, the ground, the trees, the rocks, the mountain, we were burning too… Those people, who unfortunately got splashed by this never before seen burning fluid, caught fire and burned like candles. There was squealing, screaming and many sounds of horror as people rushed out of the trenches looking to the sky and begging for help. All you could see are flames running at you screaming and begging for help, flames that you had to put out with your bare hands?! We fought the flames all day, then, at night, under the light of a full moon, we buried the burned corpses in mass graves. The aircraft attacked us in this manner, with that damn fire, several more times, but we quickly learned we could avoid being burned by burying ourselves deep into the ground. We dug tunnels in the bunkers and trenches and before the barrels fell we hid underground like moles. It is one thing to see a cut tree falling down and another to see it burning. And how does a man fall when he is shot compared to being burned? This is something that no one should never even think about never mind see it… And as long as we were burning, our opponent, step by step, came closer, about 100 to 200 meters bellow us and dug himself in. Perhaps that was the reason why the aircraft stopped dropping barrels on us, and the cannons began firing behind our positions. Suddenly there was silence, no cannon shelling, not even a bullet was fired. There was no movement at all, not from our side and not from theirs. We waited patiently in silence. Then the silence was broken by the roar of airplanes. There were six of them and flew in three’s. The first three made a circle above us and didn’t drop anything, not even a burst of machinegun fire. The other three did the same. They kept circling above but we didn’t dare fire at them in fear of uncovering our exact positions. I don’t know how many times the aircraft circled but suddenly the sky was filled with colourful leafs of paper. There was no wind to blow them so the clouds of paper fell directly on top of us. The sun was shaded and the earth became covered with paper. I took a few and began to read: ‘Communists, bandits surrender! Tito has come to our side. There is no salvation for you Slavo-Macedonians!

Surrender! Tito gave you up! Stalin and Tito had a fight! Tito has come to the American and English side! Tito has closed the border! Tito is our Ally now! You are all alone! Gramos is done! Don’t expect any help from Tito! You will die of hunger!’ The entire front, all combat positions were covered with leaflets like this… It was June 29th. They dropped the same leaflets the next day and several days after that… These leaflets had the effect of large and scary bombs falling… They were an assault on our spirit, our faith and our hopes… They made our effort seem fruitless and empty, they seized our soul, torn our hopes apart and killed our dreams. This is how I felt and so did many Macedonians… Most of us were at the north-eastern front… The political commissars kept telling us that the leaflets were only enemy propaganda but still that didn’t help ease our fears. The front was peaceful for three days and during those three days our opponents on the other side ridiculed us and profanely swore at us. One day the political commissars were invited to go to high command. They returned late at night and explained to us that one of the communist party information bureaus in power, under Soviet Union control, accused Tito of not following Informburo rules, as the others did, so it sent him a message, a letter, asking him to reconsider and leave things to comrade Stalin because comrade Stalin knows best and for Tito not to think himself smarter than Stalin. Tito replied to this by saying he will do as he pleases. In other words, Tito became disobedient and because of this the advanced and progressive communist and workers’ parties, shunned him and called on the Communist Party of Yugoslavia to fight against him and his associates. The commissar also told us that the Communist Party of Greece (CPG) on account that today it is leading a merciless struggle against Anglo-American imperialism, silently agrees with Stalin, and will openly state its position under better conditions. That’s why the Party is inviting all fighters to fight more vigorously to break the enemy at Gramos. That’s when we learned that the enemy Division XV, considered to be elite, after six days and nights of un-relentless bitter fighting, despite the major air and artillery support, failed to break us at the northern front and close the door to the Albanian border. On August 2nd, after forty-one days of lying in trenches in a defensive position, I returned to the starting point and saw action after the fall of Kleftis Hill at the south end of the front. Our east side resiliently held Sveti Ilia, Gorusha, Krusha, Bel Kamen and Kula on top of the village Koteltse for forty-five days and nights. In the course of the heavy fighting for every inch of ground, few of the fighters thought as to why Tito and Stalin had a fight. But the worm of doubt began to eat away, scratch and dig deep. And the planes, in addition to dropping bombs, continued to drop leaflets inviting us to surrender, continuously reminding us of what awaits us because of what Tito did. One morning, at the top of the hill, our side opened a white cloth on which written with large red letters was the message: ‘Your leaflets are printed on thick and hard paper. Print them on thinner and softer paper so that it would be easier for us to wipe our asses with!’” Stoian stopped talking. He felt like he was loosing his voice. The silence was broken by Risto who asked: “And what happened next?” “The aircraft continued to fly and drop rockets and bombs on our bunkers and trenches and…” Stoian moved his arm and shook his empty sleeve “a piece of a bomb like a knife…” he then pointed with his eyes at the empty sleeve. During the silence that followed the men broke eye contact, immobile and dazed they silently thought about their bitter experience in which they left part of themselves and wondered where all this was going to take them. Stoian took a deep puff from his cigarette made from strong and thickly cut tobacco twisted in a paper ripped out of a newspaper, and began a long stretched out caught.

“The tobacco is no good for you” said Risto with a sad voice while gently tapping Stoian’s back. Stoian spit out after he coughed and added: “Up there in the tunnels” pointing with his head at the foot of the mountain “I have loads of it in paper bags but it’s too weak for me. It’s not just plain tobacco. It is beautifully rolled up in thin paper without markings. You smoke it and nothing. Only smoke. I take the cigarettes up to the positions at night along with other provisions.” “In paper bags you said?” Risto asked with a surprise in his voice. “And do you have any empty paper bags?” “Piles of them…” answered Stoian. “What do you do with them?” asked Risto. “I burn them” replied Stoian indifferently. “I always burn them. By order, I have been ordered to do so. I have a written order on which it clearly says ‘the sacks from sugar, rice and all other papers must be burned to leave no trace of them…’ A few days ago a man from Military Intelligence came here, allegedly to inspect the place, and when he saw a whole bunch of empty bags of paper, he threatened me with court martial. ‘Did you know’ he said to me ‘you jack ass, you villager’ yelling at me ‘if the enemy came in possession of these bags, he would discover our military secrets?’ After that he opened a great big book and wrote an order for me and in accordance with that directive I had to order my people to burn the papers…” “And what about up there at the positions how do you deliver the rice, sugar, flower, cigarettes?” asked Risto. “In bags… I load them on donkeys and horses, but mostly on the backs of the village men and women from the surrounding villages…” answered Stoian with a heavy, long and protracted sigh. “I have to load them on the backs of old men and women like on beasts of burden and send them uphill to way up there.” Stoian pointed in the direction of the surrounding hills with his good arm. “Self composed they go up quietly and carry the load, along with their broken souls, to the destination. I feel like crying when I look at them. The poor people, on their backs they carry crates of ammunition, of food, and when they return they carry back wounded. They carried me the same way to the main hospital in Gramos where they amputated part of my arm and later they amputated the rest of my arm at the hospital in Elbasan, a reminder of my fate… When my wound was closed they took me to Suk. And there, what can I tell you! In the barracks there were people recovering, crippled, blind, deaf, mute, they were all our people, there were also epileptics, crazy people, informants and some sly and sneaky people.” Stoian stopped talking for a moment, looked around and, shortly afterwards, whispered: “There was also one among them from the 2nd Bureau…” “I didn’t hear you.” said Risto and leaned his ear towards Stoian. “What did you say?” “They say, Risto, the walls have years… and here even the mountains have ears, and that’s why I am whispering to you, understand?” replied Stoian. “Of course, I understand” said Risto, raised his eyebrows and closed his mouth. “I thought you should know…” replied Stoian, spit on the side and continued. “At Suk, once a week they brought recovering patients by truck from the hospitals for a short rest and upon return they took them to the battle lines. We, the ones with one leg, one arm, one eye, mute, deaf, were asking to also return to the formations but the camp commander, some Thessalian, also with one leg, was telling us there is no more formations for us. So, we waited there with our idle time being filled with lectures about what Marx said, what Lenin did in Russia but mostly about Stalin. Our teacher was a former long time prisoner from Rumeli. He wore glasses with thick lenses and his hearing was not very good. People said that he studied in Moscow with Zahariadis and that he was imprisoned by the dictator Metaxas. They said he was in Bulkesh and that many became political commissars under his tutelage. But he was not just our teacher.

In time we found out that the man established an entire network of spies, informants, whistle-blowers and other undesirables with whose help he placed us all in his book and pegged some of us as nationalists, other as chauvinists, opportunists, autonomists, Titoists… The last two categories were considered the most dangerous. So, we, the Macedonians were the most dangerous. But that was not all, not enough for him. He infiltrated our group with a spy and a provocateur. They too were our people. We quickly uncovered the spy and brought him into line. He told us about the book. And look what happened. That book began to work on our minds. Every time we came near the man, day or night, all we could think about was which one has he fingered now? Which one has he labeled autonomist or Titoist, or both…” “And the spy?” inquired Risto. “The poor guy slipped on a watermelon peel and broke his neck. We all felt sorry for him… So I tell you, we all began to wonder how we can get our hands on that book. We thought about it but nothing good came of it. Then one day one of the so called ‘marked man’ spoke up: ‘brothers, I can see that you have heads on your shoulders but I have to wonder what they’re filled with, straw or hay’. So I casually remarked… why don’t we outfox the bugger…? Let’s do it! I will go inside the clinic and take an alcohol bottle. You know the man has a passion for drinking? I have seen him mix half a glass of alcohol with half a glass of water. At knight when he finishes making notes he will drink and pass out. Without him knowing, I will leave the bottle on his table. I will be damned if he does not plaster himself. Then, quietly I will enter and finish the job. Smart, don’t you think?” Stoian took a puff from his cigarette, spit after coughing and coninued: “We were not sure if it was a smart thing to do, but we accepted it because our fellow countryman often entered the storehouse unnoticed and returned with pockets full of the type of food the chiefs of staff ate. The next morning, after waking up, the public announcement speakers went silent for a moment. The blazing songs praising the struggle were finally interrupted for an announcement from the commander: “Προσοχη! Προσοχη! Αµεσος ολοι στην πλατεια!” (Attention! Attention! Everyone report to the square immediately!) “We line-up. Those without legs were wheeled there on wheel chairs. We stood there and waited. Fifteen minutes later the commander and the teacher who taught us about Marx, Lenin and Stalin and fingered us in his notebook, arrived. They frowned, looked hostile and had malice in their eyes. They climbed on the stage. “Comrade fighters…” began the commander, but at the same moment the teacher pushed his way in front of him, all red from anger and malice, swung his right arm, pulled out a wrapped newspaper from under his arm, quickly unwrapped it with his trembling hands and low and behold, the book fell out of it on the floor! With his finger pointing to the book on the floor the teacher, like a crowing crow, yelled out with a pounding voice that worked its way up from his neck: “The person that defecated in my book report here immediately!” “At that moment everyone thundered with a loud and elongated laugh. Unfortunately our laughing made things worst. Days afterwards they called us in, one by one, at the chief’s office at headquarters. They interrogated us, threatened us with court-martial and took away our privileges. At the end we endured that too. After the battles for Negush, Voden and Lerin an order was issued recommending to those who wanted to ‘volunteer’ for various behind the scenes services to signup. At the end of May the trucks came and everyone left except those with no legs, the blind and the mad. All others, some missing two or three fingers, some missing hands, arms, a leg, an eye, those who were deaf or half deaf, were all free to go. A little later in May the trucks came again and during the night took us to Breznitsa. There we received military deployment orders.

They sent me here and appointed me commander of the storehouses…” concluded Stoian. “And what happened to the provocateur?” asked Risto. “He came with us. He sat at the end on the truck. The truck took a curve too fast and he, the poor man, was not hanging on very tight, and fell off into an abyss and disappeared in the darkness. We yelled at the driver to stop but he could not hear us and continued to drive. Later, when we asked why he did not stop, he said he did not hear us, the engine of the old American truck was too loud. Yes… That’s that brother. A bit of carelessness and you are swallowed by the abyss. What a misfortune… He was one of ours too, that idiot… a sly dishonest fellow. Sown in the pocket of his backpack we found the names of thirty of our boys written on a list. They were all accused of planning to escape to Yugoslavia. And you know what happens to those accused of desertion? They get buried under a wall…” concluded Stoian. While Risto listened to Stoian telling his story, he kept wondering what happened to the paper bags, so he asked again: “What do they do with the paper bags up there?” “I don’t know what they do with them up there, but I know what I need to do with them down here when they are empty… I burn them… Those are the orders. And why are you so interested in the paper bags?” asked Stoian. “Well… what can I say.” responded Risto. “So direct… so open.” replied Stoian. “Listen, Stoian… My work involves digging trenches and building bunkers.” remarked Risto. “Oh, so that means you are in command of the women?” mockingly replied Stoian. “Not me, I am not in command of the women. Others are in charge of them.” answered Risto. “Okay then, you are not in command but you do tell them how to dig and how to carry logs from the forest.” jokingly remarked Stoian. “Something like that…” answered Risto. “And…” inquired Stoian. “And those who don’t know how to write, I write letters for them when they want to send a letter to their friends and relatives in the units, but mostly to their children in the [Eastern European] countries. But…” paused Risto. “But what?” inquired Stoian. “There is no paper to write on…” replied Risto with a complaining tone of voice. “I don’t have that kind of paper in my storehouses.” answered Stoian. “I am not asking you for paper from the storehouses…” remarked Risto. “Ah, you want the paper from the bags?” commented Stoian. “Yes. Can I have it?” asked Risto. “To take with you? Go ahead” replied Stoian “but remember; I saw nothing, I heard nothing!” “Me too Stoian…” added Risto. They both looked into each others eyes and a barely visible smile appeared on their faces. The Great Lie – Chapter 19