The Great Decline – Chapter 5

The Great Decline – Chapter 5

Step by step they marched, stooping forward in a crooked line following one another and breathing heavily. It was cold and the frozen snow squeaked and cracked with every step. In some places the snow was waist deep and sometimes shoulder deep. It was a real struggle marching through the deep snow and dangerous, especially when passing over deep crevasses and under potential avalanches. A cold breeze turned their faces ghostly white and froze their ears and cheeks. They felt the burning cold everywhere. Their fingers, toes and feet burned and hurt. They had never before encountered such cold and snow that was so loud, crunching under their feet. It seemed like it got louder with every step they took. It squeaked and crunched under their feet and each step became heavier and harder to take. Up above, on top of the hill, the wind roared as it passed through the beech trees. It was very cold. The howling wind picked up drifts of snow, whipped it around in a wild frenzy and tossed it into their faces and eyes making the march even more treacherous.

“Move forward! Hold on to the person in front of you! Do not stop!” the order was given and passed along from person to person.

They marched bent forward, breathing heavily and all sweaty.

“Do not stop. Keep moving or you will fall asleep... move... move, do not stop!” were the only words heard from the invisible column passing through a blizzard.

Tsilka began to lag. She could not keep up the pace. She felt as if the snow under her feet was slipping backwards and pulling her with it. She could barely lift her feet. She slowed down a bit but her knees could not hold her weight... Someone caught her under the arm and pulled her closer. Tsilka was out of it, but still aware that a strong hand had grabbed her and was now pulling her forward.

Holding hands, holding on to coats and to gun belts, they slowly crossed the river. Their wet clothes felt heavy and quickly began to freeze. Their coats, shirts, pants and socks inside their heavy boots were completely drenched. Their wet backpacks weighed them

down, making their legs stiff and tired, feeling as if they were stuck in the earth.

“Get up! Move! Forward! Do not stop!” were the new encouraging words now barked at the column which soon began to move again.

The fighters were moving with eyes closed, holding each other by their coats and belts, following one another single file, enduring pain and fighting drowsiness… Finally they reached their destination at dawn.

“Light fires!” a commanding voice was heard barking.

They collected scraps of wood and lit fires on top of the snow. There was too much snow and as it melted it put out their fires. They gathered around, cleared a large space, piled all the wood in it and started a bonfire. In spite of the bellowing smoke, which made them cough and spit, they made a large circle around the fire and began to warm their stiff, frozen hands and bodies...

The march resumed in the afternoon. They were given a new destination.

They were gathered in trenches and huddled together, next to one another, leaning on the frozen walls where water had once drained before it froze, looking at the flickering flames of the tiny fires they lit. They looked like they were mesmerized by the dancing flames. One would think they were all sleeping with their eyes open except for the tears dripping down their cheeks from the smoke that irritated their eyes. The warmth from the fire made them drowsy and sleepy but they were not sleeping, they were simply burdened with deep thoughts… The march traumatized their bodies and now they were stunned and had surrendered to the warmth and serenity of their environment… Everything hurt including swallowing the leftover stale bread now soaked in water…

Iani closed his eyes and all he could think of was a table full of all kinds of foods, including his favourite dish of baked beans. To the side of the table he pictured a fireplace with a burning fire, burning oak logs and sparks splashing all over the room. It had a lively fire,

its flame thundering up the chimney and warming the entire room. He pictured himself stretched out in front of it, covered with a red woolen blanket, with his cold, dirty and tired feet soaking in a bowl of hot water. He pictured his mother fussing about and cutting freshly baked bread. He then pictured his mother coming over and sitting next to him, caressing his sore hands and offering him a cup of warm milk... He was asleep by now and dreaming, but his dream was not so pleasant. Just as he fell asleep, Iani began to fret, yell, threaten, jump, kick and punch the air with his fists... He opened his eyes. His entire body was rigid and he was sweating profusely... Tsilka was leaning over to him and wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck...

The fire, burning in the makeshift fireplace inside the wall of the trench, was out. Shadows were creeping up everywhere and darkness began to overtake the trench. Night was slowly approaching. Tsilka tilted her head on Iani’s shoulder and fell asleep. In her sleep, like a scene from a film being rewound, she heard the usual swearing and cursing. But this time something was different. This time she heard Tsana praying and calling for help… She was heavily wounded out in the field and was yelling and calling but no one could hear her over the flood of gunfire. No matter how hard she yelled her voice was overpowered by the gunfire. She felt drained and wasted... Tsilka suddenly opened her eyes wide open and jumped to her feet. A glowing coal in the makeshift fireplace got her attention. She stared at it until it went out. It was drowned by the dripping water that was now slowly draining into the trench and accumulating at its bottom. She looked up and through the gaps of the tall beech trees she could see stars. Tiny lights were penetrating through the large black canvas of the night sky. A gust of wind blew and shook the branches above, dislodging chunks of snow that fell on her face. More wind blew causing her to shiver and return back to her place. She heard a quiet hoarse voice saying something. It was Kole who recently had returned from the hospital.

“I met her at the hospital,” he said. “After that I followed her everywhere every day for many days. One day, up there on the steep slope, I stopped in front of her and stared into her eyes. She looked at me and gave me a cold poisonous stare. I approached her and

grabbed her by her face with both hands. She turned her head and looked away. She said nothing. It felt like she relaxed in my hands. I then put her in a cart and push the cart down the hill with her in it. They found her late in the evening. They said the cart had overturned in the ditch and she broke her neck. But only I know what really happened and now you also know... You would not believe how many young men and women suffered because of her lies and her spying on people... She informed on everyone, on people kissing, on people taking an extra portion of bread… And as such many people were shot and died before dawn and behind the bushes for nothing... And every time I think about it, it makes me sick. Hold my hands... They are soaked from my own sweat... I can’t seem wash it off, not even with soap... I even pissed on them but they still sweat...”

It was obvious that the man was delirious so Tsilka, quietly, without a word, moved away and sat next to Zoia, who had just returned to our detachment about a week ago. In the semi-dark she looked at Zoia and saw the damaged side of her face. Tsilka thought to herself: The poor woman, she is such a good and peaceful person, why did this have to happen to her? Why did her face have to be hit by shrapnel and damaged so badly? She wanted to say something warm and gentle to her but she knew it would not bring her any comfort. Instead, Tsilka began to pray silent prayers. She prayed for Zoia and for those who were lying exhausted now, napping frozen and wet in the trenches, she prayed for those on guard, for those who returned from battle and for all those who were on their way to the hospital...

Zoia turned her head and came cheek to cheek with Tsilka’s face and the two quietly, to themselves, prayed together. They both prayed to the Almighty with all their strength, desperately hoping their prayers would be heard. Embraced in thought and spirit they both surrendered to God...

Minutes later the detachment’s political secretary entered the trench and asked: “Who among you here knows how to perform cupping? (a medical procedure).”

“I do…” a shy voice was heard saying from down the corner. A moment later Zoia stood up while buttoning her great big wide coat. The political secretary looked at her coat then moved his eyes down to her dirty boots and said: “Come closer.”

Zoia came closer and stopped in front of him. The dim fire burning in the makeshift fireplace, together with the dim light entering the trench from the outside brightened Zoia’s face revealing the large crusted scar on her right cheek.

“What is that on your cheek?” the political secretary asked while pointing at her face with his finger.

“I… I… I…” Zoia began to say while being overcome with intense emotions. “I just returned from the hospital. I am almost recovered. I was wounded and now I am back with my squad with my crusted wound…”

Once again he looked at Zoia carefully, like he was measuring her from head to toe and then said: “One of you girls knows how to perform cupping,” and then looked around at the faces of the others. “This one knows how,” he said while pointing at Zoia. “How about you?” he asked another girl and pointed at her. “You have until the end of the day to learn. This is an order. Do you understand?”

“I understand!” she replied and gave him a military salute. “I will immediately learn how to perform cupping!”

“Immediately and then report to me!” he instructed.

“Understood… Political Secretary! Report to you!” she replied.

Tight at her shoulders and bent forward, Zoia stood at the edge of the pond looking into the clear water. Looking back at her was a woman with wide open eyes, like those of a frightened doe. She had a large ugly scar on her face. Her forehead was wrinkled, her lips tight and her jaw clenched… Zoia was looking at a broken woman… And just now she realized how much she had degraded and how much it hurt her to be this way... A tear dropped into the water creating a widening circle, and then another and another

spreading all through the pond and distorting the entire mirror. Each circle slowly moved away from the shore and faded only to be replaced by another circle, carrying with it Zoia’s pain, grief and ugly face. As the ripples subsided the water relaxed its shivers, scars and abrasions. Zoia again bent forward and with her big brown eyes looked deep down into the pond until she saw the sand on the bottom... Life is like a handful of sand, she thought to herself, which someone can measure by dropping it through their fingers...

In the evening the woman, who by now had learned how to perform cupping, took her backpack which had the apparatus for performing the procedure in a little bag and reported to the brigade commander’s trench. She was immediately put to work. Several days later she was transferred to the brigade headquarters where a girl was also needed to perform cupping...

The weather had somewhat improved in the first days of March. Winds blowing from the south began to melt the snow making everything wet. Soon afterwards the rains came to Gramos. They were preceded by lightning and thunder. Lightning strikes were very common in these barren rocky hills, especially against the isolated and sporadic trees. The brooks and ravines get dangerously swollen with fast flowing water at this time of year. Visibility is poor during the day and it gets very dark at night, especially during intense rain storms. The fast flowing muddy waters carry leaves, branches, logs and sometimes stones, making them very dangerous to cross in the dark. There are days when it rains with no end, which darkens a person’s soul and makes them very irritable and angry. The milder weather also brings cold fog which settles in crevasses and ravines. The fog carries droplets of water and a person feels lost in it. Prolonged exposure can make one feel small, weak, lonely, empty, broken and powerless. Sunlight and heat seem to relieve the anxiety people feel up there in the mountains.

Soon afterwards the trees bud and grow young and tender shoots. The grass starts to green and grow. The birds begin to sing and the faces of the girls flourish and are full of smiles. Spring has arrived…

Ilo, leaning on the wall of the trench, was talking to two new arrivals from the hospital in Suk. He said:

“There is no girl older than twenty in our detachment. We have four seventeen year olds, seven eighteen year olds and five nineteen year olds. We have one twenty year old and she was put in charge of all the girls. Only she knows when washing and other female things are done. Right now they are going to the river to wash. I accidentally opened a backpack left on the ground and took out a notebook. Here is what was written in it: ‘The political commissar of detachment 587 has a very bad attitude towards girls. He always looks down on them and refuses to recognize their pains. He says he only recognizes heroism and nothing else. This villainous man arrived here about a month ago. He came from Bulkesh. Those who come from Bulkesh, we call Bulkiotes. We hate them. They consider themselves educated and upper class and trust no one. We are all “questionable” to them. They are very strict and without humanity. All commanders that came from Bulkesh are like that. When someone says they came from “Bulkesh” be careful of them... When one of my girls says something that may be of use to us, he immediately objects to it, saying that she is not mature and educated enough to have policy building ideas. He is a terrible and heartless man. I am sorry for Lenka and Marika who got caught and punished for eating green grass and swollen buds. There is very little food to eat, what does he expect us to do? Starve? We eat fifty grams of stale bread and almost everyday for lunch and dinner we eat flour mixed in warm water. The man scolded the two girls so badly that all through the last march they felt depressed and isolated. They were given the task of carrying a heavy machine gun and as a result they fell behind. When the greater part of the detachment took its position on top of the hill, the two girls were still climbing the slope. When the commander shouted at them to get them moving the political commissar told him to stop yelling, we were not in a village or walking down a promenade serving water. Later when the commander questioned Marika as to why they were late, she told him the machinegun they were issued to carry was very heavy and there was no one there to help them carry it... Until two months ago we had no uniforms. They sent us on exercises, marches and to battle in the clothing we brought from home. Our dresses were torn to shreds and we had to walk in bare feet... I can’t write much more because I am constantly crying when I think of what we have gone through.’...”

The women were spotted coming back from their wash. They were just beyond the brook when Ilo put the notebook back in the backpack, lay down and placed his hat over his face, pretending that he was napping. Moments later he felt a kick on his hip. He turned his head and looked.

“Look!” one of the men said.

“Wow, it’s our girls…” Ilo said with admiration. “Wow!”

“Yes, yes… they are our girls… Whose girls did you think they were?” replied the other man.

“Wow! Look how clean they look…” said Ilo, jumping to his feet. “Look at their red cheeks…” he added.

“Clean, Ilo, they are very clean...” said the first man as the girls passed by them.

As the three men ogled and teased the girls, several other men popped their heads out of the trenches and the machine gun nests, stretching their necks out to have a better look. Mita, the oldest, with her shmaizer hanging over her shoulder, tapped Ilo on the arm and moved on ahead of the other girls. She walked tall and proud with her hat slightly tilted, her long, black hair flowing behind her and her top two shirt buttons unbuttoned. She floated by them like a breeze, throwing her shoulders back and walking with a beautiful rhythm. Her step was hard and certain as she floated over the grass and her body emitted an aroma of mountain mint and flowers. She looked stealthily at the trenches and was well aware of the men looking at her beautiful body and swallowing hard. Then as she passed by the first group of men she saluted with a gentle motion of her hand. She then quietly said, “What a bunch of bulls!”

After the women had passed by, everyone dispersed and went back to what they were doing… Ilo took a deep sigh, looked up at the sky and, while shaking his head, said: “Lord please don’t take away my desires…”