A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 12

A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 12

For the second day in a row before sunrise, DAG soldiers were marching at the bottom of Prenies, marching at a fast pace in four columns and singing. That’s what those in Prenies command called them - soldiers -but those in the barracks and horse stables used to say: - The children are out. Pando and Numo used to call them “our children”. “Look at that little one, the skinny one, how he stomps with his old boots!” said Pando to Numo. “Oops, he stumbled and almost fell down. He tripped, the poor guy, his boots are too big. But look how he stomps, eh?” “Wow! They truly are children!” replied Numo, surprised. “Have those up there gone mad? Now they are taking children?” “Mad or not as you can see they are children. When I watched them getting off the trucks at midnight a couple of nights ago, I thought they were army rejects. But when I looked closer at their faces I could see that they were children. I was astonished. And yesterday, when their singing woke everyone, I felt something cut me here... and I have been a soldier in three wars, but my voice was that of a man, strong, powerful, but it still shook. I never sang a Macedonian song or walked under a Macedonian flag... In the Second Balkan War, wearing a Greek uniform, I sang like a rooster sitting on a low fence. Then during World War I, after I learned some Greek, I had to sing a little louder, otherwise I would have got the whip, imprisoned for a day or two, or both. Those were the penalties for us, the ‘neznamiti’ (non-Greek speakers). Our entire unit would also have been penalized. And in Asia Minor when the Turks were chasing us we did a lot of singing running away...” concluded Pando. “And before that?” interrupted Numo. “Before that, you know how it was, the Turks were running and we were chasing them loudly, singing Greek songs as ordered by Greek command. When we were chasing them we thought the Greeks were following in Alexander the Greats’ footsteps and made us sing out loud so that our voices could be heard beyond Turkey, threatening all of Persia and India. The Greeks knew how to sing, and loud, when things went well for them. They played their bouzoukis all the time and when they had no wires, they used strands of horsetail binds. Anything to make some noise… ta-na-na-na-na…” The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a sound coming from command: “Halt! Turn left!” “Now, Numo, they will deliver a speech and then let them go,” said Pando. “This is what they did yesterday. I watched them all the time. And you, who knows where you were wandering…” said Pando. “I was down there arguing with those in the jeep,” replied Numo.

“What? Were you asking them to take you down to the bunkers again?” asked Pando. “Yes! What else would I be asking them for? I said that I was able and willing to go. I again said: ‘What would it cost to take a lame person to one of the bunkers, give them a pitcher of water, a loaf of bread, two or three boxes of ammunition and a machine gun?’ Not that I am going to conquer the hills? Not that I am going to attack the enemy? I will put my crutches to the side, grab the machine gun and I will fire short and long bursts. And, oh, what songs I will sing, Pando. Am I asking for too much?” replied Numo. A young soldier approached. His boots were wide and long for his narrow feet and short legs. His pants were too long as well and his pant legs were folded at the bottom at least three times. His military sweater was wide and long stretching down to his knees. His military hat rested on his ears. In place of a military belt he was wearing a plain belt. His sleeves were wide and unevenly folded. But he was sure footed. “Good day,” he said. “Good day,” Numo replied. Pando adjusted himself, tucked his shirt in and, without greeting the young soldier, asked: “Would you like to join us?” “I think I will join you!” he replied and then asked if he could have a cigarette. Numo looked at him and asked: “How old are you son?” “Fifteen and some...” he replied. “Well, if you are old enough to wear a uniform, you are not too young to light a cigarette, right?” Pando reassured the young soldier. “Do you want me to make it for you or will you make it yourself?” “I can make it myself,” replied the young soldier. “What’s your name?” asked Pando. “My name is Kirche… Kiro!” replied the young soldier. “And yours Sir?” “Pandentse… Pando…” replied Pando mockingly. Kirche took the tobacco bag from Pando, took out a newspaper from his pocket, ripped a piece, set it between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and with his left hand, sprinkled the tobacco. He squeezed the paper tight, licked it along the edge and glued it shut. He then lit it with Numo’s cigarette. After taking a puff he coughed, spat to the side and, with eyes watering, said: “This is very strong tobacco, like it’s made of hazel leaves…” Numo took his newspaper and began to slowly leaf through it. “Do you read?” asked Kirche. “Do you?” replied Numo with a question. “No. I never learned to read Greek… What does it say?” asked Kirche.

“Well, here it talks about decrees that were enacted (13 decrees were enacted in 1947 and many more in 1948) to give the authorities power to confiscate the properties of those who are DAG supporters, like you and me Pando, and participants like Kirche. They also enacted decrees to strip us of our Greek citizenship...” “I do not understand any of this...” said Kirche while coughing. “Why would they take our properties? Do they think they can work them better…?” “Where did you get this newspaper?” asked Numo. “They were throwing them from the airplanes, they are good for making cigarettes,” replied Kirche. “And look what it says they did…” said Numo. “Don’t worry about it,” commented Pando. “This is only the beginning. They will do even more. You’ll see.” And then he addressed Kirche: “And where are you from, son?” “I am from a village called ‘Kukavichino’!” Kirche proudly announced. “If you were a soldier, then you would know what a military secret is, right?” Numo smiled with a sad look on his face and said: “Here is a better cigarette whose smoke does not sting like a hazel leaf because now you are a grown man, even though your uniform is a bit too big for you…” “Listen,” interrupted Kirche, “you should have seen the uniform I had! You would have thought it was tailor made for me. The crease on the trousers was so sharp it felt like it would cut the wing of a fly. And new? Oh yes, it was new! Just out of the tailor shop…” “Where is your uniform now?” asked Pando. “Well, when they decided to send us back, they took our uniforms and gave us these rags,” replied Kirche. “So they figured you were too young to fight, right?” asked Pando. “What young?!” replied Kirche loudly. “It wasn’t because we were too young! When we were in Prespa, we went out marching in our nice new uniforms, nice new shoes, socks, shirts, belts and Ganz automatic rifles, strutting our stuff in columns of four, singing songs to the music of orchestras playing marches and we were seen by the people. The people stood there like a sea of candles being amazed by our presence. What kind of army was this new army, they were wondering? Where did it come from? Then as we came closer to the people they began to recognize us. One woman yelled out ‘Kole, is that you Kole?!!!’ Kole was marching in front of me. That’s the guy down there, the one with the shovel! That guy! Do you not see him? Him, the one who is now raising the shovel! It was his mother calling him, he recognized her voice. After that all the women, mothers began to yell... and...” “And what? asked Pando. “Whatever?...” replied Kirche as if losing interest in the subject. “Hey, Kirche!” shouted one of the young soldiers. “Come on back, stop talking and come back. The commander is asking for you. “I have to go. Hopefully they will not punish me for leaving without permission,” said Kirche as he was getting ready to leave. “Find out what they want from you and come back for a chat...” said Numo. “And for a cigarette…” added Pando. “I will be back... and I will tell you how it went...” said Kirche and he left. Then, suddenly, Kuze popped up unannounced from the side, from behind the rocks and, without greeting the men, said: “Every time I see you I wonder! You, Pando, you are a gray haired old man who should know better than to sit and talk to a soldier and make cigarettes for him to smoke. You should be ashamed of yourself! And you, whatever your name is, you who limps here and there every day instead of sitting in your barracks like the other invalids, you like to chat with the young soldier and who knows what you are telling him to brainwash him! Huh?” Numo became visibly upset, but when he looked into Pando’s eyes he composed himself, spat to the side and said: “Well, if my wife was here I could have sat with her. If I was a kiss ass like you I could have followed the Prenies commander around. But as you can see I don’t have a wife or the desire to be a kiss ass. Do you know something Kuze,” Numo raised his voice, “I am not interested in listening to you…”

“And that is why they keep returning you here and treating you like a homeless bugger…” replied Kuze. “Get lost, asshole!” Numo yelled out and raised his crutch. “You are telling me to get lost?” Kuze snapped back. “Me? I am going to the commander’s office right now and you will see!” “Where else would you go? You useless piece of crap!” retorted Numo. “Get hold of yourself Numo and leave Kuze alone, can’t you see the poor guy is upset? The man wants to do his job and you hinder him. Can’t you see that he is burning with desire to condemn someone? And someone said that he was a fellow countryman! This guy, Numo, will carve your eyes out deeper than anyone else just because he is a fellow countryman. Oh, you don’t know the old story do you? A blind person went out to beg and on the way he met some men who asked him: ‘Tell us, who took your eyes out?’ ‘My brother,’ replied the blind man. Well, that is why they are dug so deep... Let him go and don’t be so stubborn. Kuze is Kuze. He will report you to the authorities even if you don’t do anything to him,” concluded Pando. “Pando, you shut up!” Kuze yelled, “and stay put because...”

“Because you will grab me by the short and curly, Kuze? You pathetic little man…” retorted Pando. Kuze then did an about face and went towards the ovens. “He is like a dog, he is everywhere,” said Numo. “One of these nights the dark will take him away. I am sure of it. People have already suffered enough. Their pain is already too great, on top of which they have to put up with idiots like that.” Pando turned his head towards the river where women were washing the wool, and in a slow voice said: “Let us go Numo, it is starting to stink around here!”