THE AUTHOR - Part 01

THE AUTHOR

DAG’s defeat

From August 10th to the 15th, 1949 the Monarcho-Fascists carried out a violent, hellish attack against DAG with unprecedented air support supplied by the United States. The poet Atso Shopov was right when he wrote the poem “Gramos” telling us that “no bird can fly in Vicho from the hail of bombs and grenades”. This struggle has been objectively presented in two volumes by Greek historian Giorgos Margaritis, a professor at the University of Crete. Margaritis has relied on the memoirs of prominent anti-fascists for his source material. The information presented is the best example I have read that describes why DAG aborted Vicho and pulled out of Gramos, leaving the population unprotected and running for its life. One hundred and thirty bombing runs were made on August 10th, 1949 by the American supplied air support using “Dakota” and “Spitfire” military aircraft to bomb units of DAG and columns of fleeing refugees. The next few days the military aircraft did the same, at the same pace, providing air support for the Monarcho-Fascist artillery and infantry. There was not a square foot of space that had not been bombed on Mount Vicho, on Lisets, on Mount Malimadi and in Prespa along the Albanian and Yugoslav border. The entire area had been bombed with aerial bombs, grenades, napalm bombs and rockets and was garnished with machine gun fire by the dive-bombing aircraft. This clearly indicates the conditions under which DAG was placed and the kind of pot its fighters were put in to boil. There was an insurmountable amount of pressure and worry placed on the fighters not only for saving their own lives but also for caring for the wounded and for saving the huge columns of fleeing refugees. DAG was again attacked in Gramos with the same vigour. It was under these circumstances, created mainly by foreign intervention, that the “freedom-loving democrats” of Gramos dropped the “last flag”. DAG was defeated by the Monarcho-Fascists on Mount Gramos on August 30th, 1949 with Anglo-American support. After Vicho fell to enemy hands, Nikos Zahariadis, General Secretary of the CPG Central Committee, said: “Gramos will be the tomb of the Monarcho-Fascists”. But that did not turn out to be the case. DAG suffered numerous casualties but had it not backed down and fled to Albania, the opposite would have been true. Gramos would have been the tomb for DAG. For the longest part, after removing General Markos Vafiadis from his command and after abandoning the proven military strategies of the so-called “Supreme War Council Law”, Zahariadis worked personally with his Politburo installing new “military strategists” who had

absolutely no relevant experience. Units of DAG from Gramos and from other places withdrew to Albanian territory.

Looking at the Most Dedicated to Find the Guilty for DAG’s Defeat

The main culprits for DAG’s defeat naturally were Nikos Zahariadis, General Secretary of the CPG Central Committee and his Politburo. But that’s not who they found guilty. Instead of laying blame where it squarely belonged, Zahariadis and his clique pointed their fingers at the Macedonians, specifically at the NOF and AFZH leadership and at the Provisional Democratic Government of Greece. In Bureli, a town in Albania, Zahariadis staged a fake political trial, similar to those staged by Informburo countries. He had the last word. On October 2nd, 1949 we were camped in a meadow under some olive trees beside a creek outside Elbasan. There was a beautiful white building on top of the hill. It had been converted into a hospital for the sick and wounded DAG fighters, cared for by doctors and nurses who were also members of DAG. There were both Macedonian and Greek patients and caregivers in the hospital, they were people who had fought shoulder to shoulder in the struggle and who had suffered and celebrated together. All the anti-fascists were united as one people then and had the same goal. From earlier on, October 2nd was designated International Day of Peace in honour of the International Congress which was held in Prague on April 20th, 1949 as well as in Paris and Tokyo. A delegation from Greece also attended the Congress including representatives from Macedonian organizations. We, the cadres of NOF, AFZH, DAG, Ministers of the Interim Government of Greece and members of the CPG Central Committee were planning and making preparations for that extra-special occasion to mark this day with an appropriate program followed by speeches from several leading cadres, including some from the Macedonian side. Even before the celebrations began many fighters and civilians began to gather and fill the hospital courtyard. Around 8 o’clock a jeep arrived carrying an officer from DAG Headquarters, whom I did not recognize. As soon as he got off the jeep the officer came in the direction where we were standing: Mihail Maliov, Urania Iurukova, Tashko Hadzhiianov, Gora Petrichevski my (not yet married) spouse Mincho Fotev and I. The officer knew me. When he came close to me he said: “Comrade Vera, this letter (he handed me a blue envelope) is for you from Comrade Bardzhotas, he wants to meet with you at his place.” Vasilis Bardzhotas was a political commissar of the DAG General Staff and a member of the CPG Politburo inner circle. I quickly opened the envelope. In it was a short letter with the following text: “Comrade Vera, You, Mincho, Urania and Hadzhiianov, the

moment you receive this letter, are to immediately get in the jeep and come to Bureli” signed “Vasilis Bardzhotas”. When I read the letter I was stunned, I froze like lightning had just struck me. I looked at my friends all around me. I had the feeling that something bad was going to happen and I could not get that feeling out of my head; an evil feeling that had been hovering in my head for a while now. My friends looked at me strangely as I was eager to tell them what the letter said. Mincho became impatient and grabbed the letter out of my hand. I quietly squeezed my words out of my mouth and said: “Us four: Mincho, Urania, Hadzhiianov and I are being called to immediately take the jeep and go to Bureli, to DAG’s General Headquarters”. There was silence. The message was worrisome to everyone and we all kept silent. A group of civilian men and women traveling with DAG units from the free territory, with whom we had camped together in that place, surrounded us and wondered what was going on. We told our friend Gogo Petrushevski, a seasoned NOF fighter, that “we were sure that they would arrest us. If you can, leave now because you will suffer the same fate.” I also told some of my fellow villagers, my aunts and a first cousin that I was sure they would arrest us. This kind of threat against the central NOF leadership had been “circulating” for a long time and now they were putting it into practice in order to hide the real culprits for DAG’s defeat. Despite the threats that we would be liquidated, taken by some provocateurs, we were and remained to the end faithful to the people whom we organized, fought with, died with and rejoiced with.

Worries about my broken watch

Before leaving I managed to give my broken watch to my cousin Olga Mangova. That watch, even broken, meant a lot to me because it tied me to two dear people: to my father and my uncle Krsto Mangov. I had loaned the watch to Krsto Mangov, President of the District Board of the National Liberation Council, Kostur District. He died on August 11, 1949 just before the village Breznitsa was shelled by artillery. While there he helped people escape and find a hiding place just before the Monarcho-Fascist air force began to bomb the village. In his endeavor Krsto Mangov, a Macedonian, along with DAG General Nikos Teoharopulos-Skotidas, a Greek, were struck and killed by the same bomb. I quickly rushed to the place when I heard about Krsto and Nikos’s death. General Skotidas’s body had been sent to DAG General Headquarters. The only part left intact from Krsto Mango’s body was his left hand. He had wounded his hand twice before and it did not function properly. He was wearing my watch on that hand. Since nothing remained of him we just buried his hand. But before burying him I took back my watch, it was broken, and then I took the documents briefcase from the People’s Liberation District Board and told my cousin Olga: “Olga, here is my watch. If I die, please give it to his children and if I survive, give it back to me.” Olga kept the watch as if it was sacred. When I returned from exile in Russia, I met her in December 1956 and she gave me back the watch, which to this day I have kept. It is still broken but it brings back many memories of a “broken time”.

On the Road to Bureli

Like it was nothing, the four of us, Mincho, Urania, Hadzhiianov and I, named in the letter went to our tents at the lower end of the slope where we were staying, picked up some personal belongings and documents from the NOF and AFZH Central Board and went to the jeep. A crowd of people, co-fighters, gathered all around us to wish us farewell as if we were going on a life-long trip. We were silent, smiled a lot, looked confident and dignified as we waved “goodbye”. We got into the jeep fully aware of what was waiting for us and, as we did before every battle, here too we began the trip with a song. We sang and joked about our misfortune: “When we did not get killed in battle, so what if we now die at the hands of our co-fighters!” The time passed quickly and we arrived in Bureli at dusk.

Detained at DAG headquarters

When we arrived at DAG General Headquarters in Bureli we were met by General Vlandas. “It seems they were very concerned about us!” The moment we arrived they placed the four of us in separate rooms, practically in solitary confinement. When I found myself alone in a room on the top floor of a building overlooking the barracks and tents in which DAG fighters were housed, it became clear to me that we had been detained. “But why?” I wondered out loud. I did not know. I could not figure out or understand what this was all about and what was happening to us, members of NOF and AFZH and organizers of the struggle in Aegean Macedonia. There was a bed, a desk and a chair in the room where I was detained. It was already dark when they brought me dinner: tea, bread and cheese. I ate. After a while I went to the window. There was not much activity in the yard but those who went by slowed down at the side of the building and looked up, but in the dark they could not see anything. Their movement was suspicious; of that I have no doubt. I went toward the door. I opened it. I stepped out into the hallway. A Partisan with a gun immediately rushed towards me. “Where do you want to go?” he asked. I came out to find out where my three “co-victims” were but I told the Partisan I was going to the toilet. When I returned to the room I went to the window again. I saw more fighters out there, both Greeks and Macedonians. They were talking and pointing towards the building. I was certain they were aware that we had been detained, but the guards would not let them enter the building. I lay down but I could not sleep. I kept wondering about what was going to happen to us. I said to myself: “Whatever it is, it is! Life or death for the truth! This is how we entered every battle, determined to fight and die, and this is how I will enter this battle. I will fight to the end!” This is what I kept telling myself, but this battle I did not lead against the enemy but against my Party and against the CPG. This kind of fight unfortunately is harder and more difficult to fight when you are accused and you are innocent of those accusations. I somehow fell asleep. In the morning I went to the bathroom to wash and comb my hair. I looked down the hallway and saw two DAG guards from General Headquarters with machine guns in their hands ready to shoot. I said “Good morning” to them in Greek. They said “Good morning” right back. Such is life: sometimes they protect you out of respect and sometimes they shoot you like a dog. I went back to the room and while pacing back and forth, I could not help but laugh at the grim position I

found myself in: “How lucky can you be to be guarded by guards from General Headquarters?” I told myself. They brought me breakfast: tea, jam and bread. After breakfast I paced around the room and stood by the window. I waved at the people I knew and they waved right back, reassuring me that everything was going to be all right: “Don’t worry, we are with you!”

General Vlandas wants my statement

The door opened. General Vlandas entered the room, wearing pajamas, with paper and a pencil in his hands. I was well acquainted with him. He put the paper and pencil on the table and sharply ordered me to: “Write, write down your filthy deeds.” Without wanting to, I laughed; I am by nature a happy person. I have laughed more than I have cried even in the hardest of times. Laughing usually gave me courage, but this time I laughed out loud without saying a word. The general looked at me angrily and furiously strained through his teeth the words: “Write down about Tito and Kolishevski’s gang!” I said nothing; I just stared straight into his eyes and continued to laugh. I sat down. I briefly wrote my autobiography on one of the pages: when I had become a member of the OKNE, when I had been admitted as a member in the CPG, my duties during the Second World War, my disagreements with the CPG regarding the Macedonian National Question, going over to Yugoslavia with the First Macedonian Aegean Brigade and my activities during the Greek Civil War. I wrote all this down on October 3rd, 1949. I am sure that my statement can be found in the CPG Central Committee archives. The next day, October 4th, 1949, General Vlandas came back to my room, this time dressed in uniform. I gave him the paper on which I had written my statement in Greek. After reading it he bent his mouth and said: “That’s not what I wanted”. So I said: “I have nothing else to add. You, as the head of our entire leadership, know everything about my activities in both revolutions in Greece!” He strained again and let out the words: “Well, we will see!” “Yes, we will see!” I replied.

In Camp among the Fighters

On October 5th, 1949 at around ten o'clock, Pirakli Miroviglis came to see me. He was an Information officer from DAG General Headquarters. In Poland he later wrote a book entitled “Tito and his clique’s betrayal in Greece”. He greeted me kindly and asked: “Have you been for a walk in this camp?” “No!” I said and asked, “Don’t you know why?” “Well you can and you can visit with your friends,” he said. And what kind of situation was he trying to put me in? I thought to myself. This was something calculated I imagined but I went for a walk anyway. I met Tashko Hadzhiianov in the hallway. We hugged each other and I asked him if he knew where Mincho and Urania were. He said he did not know. I asked him how he was spending his days there and from what he said it was no different than how I was spending my days. Outside I met many of my comrades. They all invited me to go to visit with them in their barracks or tents. Milka Shukareva, one of my friends from the village Breznitsa, Kostur Region, gave me a whole bunch of my photographs that she had found at the bridge between the two Prespa lakes in Perovo. I remembered when we were leaving Vicho, after a long wait, General Headquarters had promised to send a vehicle to pick up the archives and NOF’s printing equipment (the printing house was located in the village Bukovo and NOF’s Central Board was located in the village P’pli in a grove in Prespa). By then the Monarcho-Fascists had already occupied the village Orovo and we were in danger of having our escape route cut off. For that reason we decided to bury the printing press underground and take the archives and whatever else important was needed, load it on up on a horse and have it couriered over the place known as “Africa” (this is what they called a small place in Prespa on the other side of the lake near the Albanian border) by Mr. Kolio from the “Iafka” services. With weapons in our hands we left and joined the last units of DAG and a group of people from the villages L’k and Trnovo fleeing towards the Albanian border. At the bridge in Perovo, the column of people with which Mr. Kolio was traveling and carrying our archives, was attacked, bombed and fired upon by machine gun fire from U.S. aircraft, belonging to the Monarcho-Fascists. The horse was hit by a bomb and there was nothing left of it. The courier narrowly escaped and managed to save a small part of the archives. The rest of the material was picked up by fleeing Partisans. One of those Partisans, who managed to survive the raid, was my friend Milka. She managed to pick up some of my photographs. But instead of taking them from her, I told her to hold on to them for me because I was in a bit of a

predicament. She kept the pictures and gave them back to me when we met again, many years later, in Tetovo after her arrival from Tashkent with her family. From my friends I found out that Paskal Mitrevski, NOF’s President, Lazar Poplazarov and Vangel Koichev, NOF’s representative in DAG’s Military Council, were also there. I looked for them and found them in a barracks. They too were detained and later released and so was Risto Kolenchov, District President of the People’s Liberation Council of Lerin Region. After they had brought us in they also brought Lambro Cholakov and Mihail Maliov, NOF Secretary, from the Elbasan Camp. I could not believe or think that the CPG Central Committee could be so presumptuous and so insidious towards the NOF leadership. DAG General Headquarters had passed a decree putting the blame for the Vicho defeat on Pando Vaina, DAG Commander of Division XI, and Georgi Vasilko, Political Commissar of Division XI, both Macedonians. The two men were to be sued by a military court but that decision soon changed... In other words, in the words of Zahariadis and his clique, the main culprits for DAG’s defeat were the Macedonian leaders and not the real traitors of the people.

Zahariadis accuses Macedonian Leadership of being traitors and agents of Tito

A meeting of all DAG fighters in the Bureli camp was convened on October 7th, 1949. The meeting took place in a large barn converted to a meeting hall with a stage and with several rows of chairs to sit about 3000 people. Present at the meeting were members of the CPG Politburo, members of DAG General Staff, CPG General Secretary Nikos Zahariadis, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Interim Government Petros Rusos, member of the Politburo and Political Commissar of DAG General Staff Vasilis Bardzhotas and Generals Mitsos Vlandas, Dimitris Gusias, Piraklis Miroviglis and others. There were also Petrov, a member of the USSR Communist Party acting as a representative of the Information Office, members of DAG General Staff and others. Zahariadis opened the meeting and devoted its introductory part to the current situation in Greece, DAG’s position and CPG’s role. Zahariadis then specifically and extensively focused on the Cominform Resolution against Yugoslavia. In fact, his aim for convening this meeting was to show the “great impact” the CPY (Communist Party of Yugoslavia) had on NOF and its leadership, which, he emphasized “played a treacherous role” and that was the main reason why DAG had failed. Among other things Zahariadis also said that “Paskal Mitrevski and his clique are agents of Tito and Kolishevski” while pointing at us with his hand. We were standing next to the members of the Politburo and the interim government. Without any proof Zahariadis went on to make all kinds of allegations, looking for ways to put the blame onto the shoulders of NOF and its leadership in order to cover up mistakes made by the CPG and by DAG’s General Headquarters. This news, however, was not taken well by the fighters in the meeting room especially since most were Macedonians and NOF members themselves who personally knew the NOF and AFZH leadership. Nevertheless, Zahariadis continued on with his lies and fabrications and went as far as accusing Mincho Fotev of attempted murder. He alleged that Mincho had tried to kill the officer with whom we came in the jeep from Elbasan to Bureli, reportedly to escape to Yugoslavia. After that he said that Mincho and I were in a “political marriage” and carried on all sorts of things and other nonsense, but he did not say what kind of “marriage” he was involved in with Rula Kukulu. After Zahariadis, the next to speak was Vangel Koichev, a NOF leader in the DAG Military Council. Koichev, supporting Zahariadis, began to attack NOF. Somewhat softer in tone was Mihail Maliov,

secretary of the NOF General Board, who attempted to distance himself from the others and not fall into disgrace, by saying that the filthy things Zahariadis said about NOF were done behind his back and that he knew nothing about them. He even showed amazement and wonderment as to how such things could happen without him knowing. Pascal and I silently listened in disgust to the lies and slander leveled against us by the speakers. We wanted to deny the charges at any cost. We wanted to come out in front of the three thousand Macedonian and Greek fighters who knew the truth very well and say you all know the truth and what these people are saying are lies. Paskal Mitrevski, President of NOF and Minister of the Provisional Government of Greece, climbed on stage. The entire hall thundered with applause and cheers. Paskal and NOF were greeted in a positive way. Fearing that Paskal may say something negative, Zahariadis intervened and immediately stopped him from speaking before he had a chance to say a single word (see “The time of Pascal Mitrevski 1912-1978”, by Tashko Mamurovski, Institute of National History - Skopje, 1992). Watching this tragicomedy of Zahariadis attempting to vilify NOF and its honest leaders made me angry and wanting to take revenge because at that moment I felt like I was losing the most valuable time in my life, which I had dedicated to NOF, to AFZH and to the Macedonian people in Aegean Macedonia who were raised en masse to fight for their national and social freedom. Zahariadis knew very well why we were fighting and how many of us became victims, a subject which was well discussed in Solun in 1946. In 1945-1946 members of NOF were persecuted in the same way by both the communists and the Monarcho-Fascists. I remember those years very well. I thought of the processes employed in Enidzhevardar, I thought of Mirka who, before her death, shouted out: “Long live NOF and the CPG!” Hundreds of NOF, NOMS and AFZH members before being executed shouted out “Long live NOF, NOMS, AFZH! Long live the CPG! Long live democracy! Down with the Monarcho-Fascists!” Unexpectedly and energetically, inspired by the heroic deeds of my predecessors, I suddenly jumped to my feet and found myself on the stage. In a loud voice I screamed in Macedonian: “Comrades and friends, fighters of the Democratic Army long live NOF and AFZH!” The entire room yelled back “Long live!” There were only a few voices which I heard calling for “Death” but they were muted by the mass of three thousand who were yelling “Long Live!” I briefly explained the role of our organization, how it grew from small to large and from a child to a teenager. I also explained the role of our eighteen year old men and women who participated in the struggle, giving their best and

how the organization AFZH was present everywhere; old women transporting food, arms and ammunition to the DAG fighters in Kajmakchalan, Vicho, Gramos, etc. Old women also participating in DAG auxiliary services: working in the cooperatives, ovens, sewing workshops, forges, in the care of the wounded, night harvests etc. Many performed their duties in dangerous situations in villages that were under enemy occupation. I also explained the women’s role in building bunkers and digging trenches in Bela Voda, Lundzer and other places. More than three thousand women were in the DAG services carrying wounded regardless of who they were: Macedonians or Greeks. In addition to being fighters, many AFZH members were also officers, sanitation workers etc. Women were equal to men and took their place in all the battles fought against the enemy. Many Macedonians gave their lives in the march of the unarmed who started out from Greece proper and marched to Mount Gramos. “Accordingly, how can such an organization be treacherous and its leaders, the leaders of NOF and AFZH, who you all know very well since the anti-fascist war as members of ELAS and EAM-CPG be traitors? And what about Yugoslavia? We were all there, including thousands of Greeks because Yugoslavia too at the time was fighting against the anti-fascist forces. We wanted Yugoslavia as Yugoslavia and Macedonia, of which one part is free and that part of Macedonia became a shelter for our families away from the Monarcho-Fascists. As for DAG’s defeat; that responsibility lies exclusively with the CPG headed by its Politburo and by General Secretary Nikos Zahariadis himself. They are responsible. If I have sinned in anything then let the people be my judge.” I also said that I condemned all deserters from our ranks where they may be found. Zahariadis was furious, not only because of what I said but because of the approval I received from the fighters. He climbed on the stage and started yelling and without wanting to, he called me “Comrade Vera”. I laughed at that. At that very moment I did not care even if he had me shot. I said: “Since I did not perish at the front, let me perish here, as my debt to my people has been fulfilled.” Zahariadis became even angrier and yelled out: “Look, this is proof that they are agents, Vera and Mincho concluded a political marriage, Mincho, down the road from Elbasan to Bureli tried to escape to Yugoslavia after wanting to kill the officer and driver, but fortunately he was prevented,” but he did not say how and by whom. It was sad to watch the “General Secretary” stoop so low and not know what he was talking about. He continued to shout: “Here are Tito’s agents. They should admit that, but they are the kind of people who are not ashamed of what they have done and will not admit to it.” He continued: “Even Vera wants us to

call her by the pseudonym ‘OZNA’!” I snapped back and said: “Comrade Zahariadis, you and everyone else here knows my pseudonym is ‘Vera’ and my real name is Evdokia. I don’t have another pseudonym besides ‘Vera’!” It appears that Zahariadis was ignorant of this, which brought some in the hall to laughter. I don’t know what Zahariadis’s reasons were for letting me speak for so long and why he did not abruptly interrupt me like he did Paskal. Perhaps he did not understand what I was saying because I spoke in Macedonian. Only to him I replied in Greek. I came down from the stage and I did not want to hear any more. I did not want to listen to the lies, slanderous remarks and fabricated charges against us. It was already clear to me that they wanted to blame as for DAG’s capitulation by labeling us as agents of Tito and Kolishevski. Obviously they did not want to take responsibility for their mistakes and made us, the Macedonian leaders, the “culprits” of DAG’s failures. It became very clear to me that they wanted to “rig” the process as was done in all former socialist republics, including the processes of: Laslo Rajk, Trajcho Kostov, Koche Dzhodzhe and others. When I left the hall, I met with friends, villagers and relatives, among whom were Vasil and Timio Ralev, Yani Chochev, Yoto Liochkov and Nuli Dzhadzheva. They said that I spoke well. I just should not have attacked the Politburo and Zahariadis. I told them that there were many provocateurs in the Politburo. My friends and comrades remained devoted even after many years. When I returned and we met in Skopje they again told me the same thing; If I had not attacked and criticized Zahariadis so sharply he would not have had me arrested and persecuted. I, on the other hand, as I thought then, still think that honest communists would never put their own guilt on others as Zahariadis had done to us the Macedonians. Was that fair? While I was talking to my friends, two Partisans with machine guns came behind us. They pointed the guns at me, tied my hands and took me back to the DAG General Headquarters building. They took me to a small room on the ground floor. There were others there from the NOF leadership who had been escorted earlier. Included among them were Paskal Mitrevski, Mihail Maliov, Vangel Koichev, Risto Kolenchev-Kokinos, Lazo Poplazarov, Lambro Cholakov and Tashko Hadzhiianov (the last four were escorted to Bureli after us). After that they brought Urania Iurukova and Mincho Fotev, whom they considered the most dangerous of us all. Urania and Mincho did not attend the meeting, they had been held in the same building but in separate rooms. The next day Pavle Rakovski was brought to the same small room. After that they brought a fighter from the village Nestram, Kostur Region, nicknamed Laokratis. Laokratis had spent the last few years in

Belgrade as the Greek representative of “Iafka”. Why he was arrested, to this day I do not know. He was not involved in our affairs. As I learned later, in 1954, he was released and lived in Tashkent. Where he is now, I do not know. Earlier, before the developments, Pavle Rakovski had written a letter addressed to the CPG Central Committee and to Zahariadis, criticizing himself for not being honest with the CPG leadership. In Prespa he had supposedly proposed to some NOF leaders that they flee to Yugoslavia so that they would not be arrested, but Mincho Fotev opposed him. Thus, on the basis of this letter Zahariadis found grounds to lay charges in Bureli.

They took my most treasured possessions

All twelve of us were held in the small room for two days; until October 9th, 1949. During the night of October 8th, when the camp was sleeping, Piraklis Miroviglis, the officer responsible for the DAG General Headquarters Second Bureau called us into his office one by one. He took everything we had except for our clothes. They took the money belonging to NOF, important documents, personal possessions, everything. Pirakli personally took my gold watch, a gift my father had sent to me from Toronto, Canada in 1948. My father had engraved the back of the watch with the words: “To Vera from your father.” They also took away my binoculars and my Kodak camera. They too were sent to me as a gift from a women’s group in Toronto. They also took 17 gold coins belonging to AFZH, a small suitcase belonging to the Kostur District People’s Liberation Council, which I had taken from my uncle Krsto Mangov after his murder in the village Breznitsa on August 11th, 1949. They took my gold earrings and ring with my initials; gifts from my mother. They left my pistol with me which I pondered if I should surrender or calmly use it on Piraklis first and then on myself. But then I thought of the consequences and with a heavy heart pulled it out of its holster and held it in my hand. It was a nice sidearm, a German “Walter” with a brown handle. It was a personal gift from Lazar Kolishevski. When did I get the gun from Kolishevski? It was in the spring of 1948 when Paskal Mitrevski, Mihail Keramitchiev, Stavro Kochopulo and I were invited to go to Resen. We were informed by the CPG Central Committee that we should take a jeep and go to Albania, to the Greek “Iafka” in Korcha. From there we were transferred to Resen. We stayed in a house. I don’t remember which house it was because it was dark when we got there and it was dark when we left. During the night Lazo Kolishevski along with Dimitar Aleksievski-Pekar, Arso Milatovich and some security types came to see us. After we had met, Comrade Kolishevski informed us that Pekat would be coming with us. Before leaving I asked Kolishevski if he could give me a sidearm. I could not use my “Berretta” because I had no bullets for it. That’s when he personally gave me the gun I surrendered to Pirakli. Never had I, even for a minute, separated that sidearm from myself since I got it. Even when crossing the Albanian border I would not surrender my sidearm. I gave them my machine gun but not that gun. The gun was my beloved and most faithful friend, which on many occasions had saved me from the enemy. I was filled with hatred while standing in front of that cursed DAG officer, who until yesterday had been my friend and was now searching

me and taking away my most precious memories of my parents, my organization (AFZH) and the gun given to me by Lazar Kolishevski. For me, at that moment, that officer became my biggest enemy. Thoughts streaked through my mind about shooting him. Vera, don’t be so stupid I thought to myself. His time will come and he will kill himself for what he is doing to us. And while these thoughts were racing through my mind, I saw a big hand lunge towards me and grab the gun from my hand. “Why didn’t you surrender the gun at the border?” he asked. “I didn’t want to,” I said, “besides nobody asked me if I had other weapons on me.” None of the Albanians prevented us from crossing the border when I, together with Marika Elkova, a member of the NOF and AFZH General Board Secretariat, were headed for Elbasan where we were located. There was only one thing that stayed with me which I can’t forget and which torments me. That was the cowardly murder of Sofia Giakova Bozhinitsa, AFZH Secretary from the village German, Prespa Region who was arrested earlier in 1949 as an “agent of OZNA” just because her husband was in Bitola. When we passed by the village Trnava, Monarcho-Fascist airplanes flew low over our heads, so low that we could see the heads of the pilots. They fired their machine guns at our column. Two partisans were coming towards us from the opposite direction, escorting the brave secretary. Initially I did not recognize her because she was so exhausted. When I went closer she recognized me and thrust herself at me. She hugged me hard and said: “Vera, these two will kill me!” I went for my sidearm but Marika intervened and said: “Vera, don’t. What do you think you are doing?” and grabbed my hand. They took her another hundred metres or so behind us and then we heard the shot; Sofia was killed for nothing. A memory that haunts me to this day! Her life and her merits in the struggle meant nothing to Zahariadis’s executioners. When they took away all my possessions I felt like my life had been taken away. I had carried that gun with me for nine years. I felt safe and secure wherever I went. For the first time in my life I felt a sense of disgust at those who stood before me and I instinctively left the small room and went into the hallway. At that moment two guards grabbed me and took me back to the same room where they searched my comrades one by one. Included among us were: Paskal Mitrevski, Interim Government Minister and NOF and KOEM General Board President; Mincho Fotev, NOMS President, DAG General Staff Assistant Commissioner liaising between the Macedonians and DAG member of the Presidency of the NOF General Board; Vangel Koichev, member of the Presidency of the NOF Main Board and member of the DAG Military Council Staff; Pavle Rakovski, member of the NOF

Board and chief editor of the newspaper “Nepokoren” (Rebellious); Lambro Cholakov, member of the NOF Board responsible for Finances; Risto Kolentsov-Kokinos, member of the NOF Board and President of the People’s Liberation Board Lerin District; Urania Iurukova, member of the NOF Board and KOEM; Lazo Poplazarov, member of the NOF Board and Political Commissar of the DAG Artillery battery; Tashko Hadzhiianov, member of the NOF and NOMS Boards in the Voden District; and I, Evdokia Baleva Nikolovska-Vera, secretary of the AFZH General Board, PDEG Vice President, candidate member of the PDOG Secretariat, member of the International Democratic Women’s Federation and NOF Vice President. For unknown reasons (to us) they also took comrade Themistocles Leokrati who at one point was a courier and CPG representative of “Iafka” in Belgrade. We were 12 people in total.

In Prison in Bureli

I found out later that Zahariadis was planning to execute us all on October 9th, 1949. This is what Piraklis Miroviglis told historian Todor Simovski in the 1970’s in Bucharest. The executions however were prevented by Petrov, the USSR’s Communist Party representative, so instead of being put to death we were put in prison in Bureli. The same night, October 9th, 1949, I heard the engine of a motor vehicle running. About fifteen minutes later Piraklis Miroviglis came and took us. The eleven of us, not including Vangel Koichev, were escorted to an open truck surrounded by armed guards. It was not a joke, to them we were “the great Titoist enemy”. It was embarrassing but funny! It was so funny that we started laughing out loud. We laughed at Zahariadis and his foolishness. Piraklis and his cohorts did not know how to react so Piraklis yelled out “Shut up!” in Albanian. At this point we figured that we were going to be handed over to the Albanian government and it would decide our fate. We got on the truck and sat on the floor. Behind each one of us stood an Albanian militiaman, pointing a machine gun at out head ready to shoot us. We thought that they were taking us away to execute us and there was nothing we could do so we went to our execution the same way we went to battle; joking and with laughter, cheerful about the situation we were in. We had avoided death in battle fighting against the Monarcho-Fascists, we had dodged the bombs and bullets from the American airplanes and now we were going to be shot in free Albania, but for what?! While I was thinking about that the truck stopped in front of a huge, heavy iron gate door. The gate opened and the truck pulled into the yard. We were ordered to get off the truck one by one. We were then separated: five men in one group, another four in a second group and then me and Urania in a third group. We were taken to prison cells and locked up. The floor in our cell was all wet. There was no place to sit, let alone lie down. The floor was concrete and laden with water. The walls were dark and damp. There was no light in the cell and no air circulation. This was the beginning of a staged and shameful attack against the NOF leadership; pre-war revolutionaries and longtime fighters against the German, Italian and Bulgarian fascists, against the Anglo-American imperialists and against the Monarcho-Fascists in Greece. During Mehmed Zog’s pre-war Albania, these cells were occupied by “dangerous” communists. There was a well in the yard where many were thrown in alive. I could still see the graffiti etchings of communist slogans on the walls of our cell. Now it was our turn to occupy the cells

in Communist Albania. The communists of the communists are now occupying the cells. What kind of irony is this? Fortunately, in this unfortunate situation, we only stayed there five days, from October 9th to the 14th; in those dark wet cells in Bureli. They unlocked the heavy, dark cell doors and took us outside. I couldn’t help myself but think that our time was up and we were about to be executed. It was a dark October night. We greeted each other with our eyes and by moving our heads because we were strictly forbidden to speak. They opened the heavy prison iron doors and one by one loaded us onto a truck, but this time they covered the top of the truck with a tarpaulin. We could not exchange words, but we conversed by sign language with our eyes and ears so that we could determine where and in which direction they were taking us. After a long ride, the truck stopped. We heard the clamour of keys and a heavy door opening. We were taken to another prison. One by one, we were offloaded the same way we were loaded, giving us no chance to speak with one another. I was taken away by two police officers and escorted inside, one in front and one behind me. After passing through the third door we went left in a hallway and I was pushed inside a cell. The door was quickly locked behind me. It was a tiny cell two metres long by one and a half metres wide. Inside there was neither a chair nor a table, just a straw mat laid on the floor. There was no light. The only light coming in was from the crack at the bottom of the door. I looked at every inch of the cell and wondered how a person could stay alive in a cell the size of a grave. I was found guilty without any guilt and thrown into this grave. There are no words which I can use to express my feelings. No one, except those who have been in my situation could possibly understand what I was feeling. There was nothing I could do so I started to laugh. Soon my laughter turned into rage and I started to pound on the door. A police officer in a dark blue, winter, wool Yugoslav uniform came and opened the door. “What do you want?” he asked angrily. “I want to go to the toilet,” I replied. “Wait!” he said and closed the door. A few minutes later he came back and took me to the washroom at the end of the hall. On my way there and back I coughed a bit and listened to hear some kind of response from my friends, but the policeman kept pushing me so I wasn’t able to hear anything. I noticed that all the cells looked the same. With me I carried a small green army blanket, which was a miracle that they did not take it from me, and a rug that I took with me when my uncle Krsto Mangov died. I found the blanket and rug very useful. I laid both on top of the straw mat and covered myself with my overcoat. Thinking that my friends and my spouse-to-be were here with me I