NEW YEAR IN THE TRENCHES OF GRAMOS

NEW YEAR IN THE TRENCHES OF GRAMOS

It was early morning and light outside but it was still dark inside the trench. The tiny rays of light that filtered through the roof could be seen as dots shining inside on the trench walls.

One more time I looked at the military objects in the trench.

It was like being among a number of nameless objects; alone, without words, without defense… they sat there motionless… all around me asking for nothing. The trench was like a place that deprived you of life. It was war time and I was involved in it… not knowing why. It was man’s work… I was included in it by those who violently ripped me away from home… from my mom. I know that a woman is not born to kill. But now I am with these people who gave me a rifle but I don’t know how to handle it. They all submitted to fate courageously. Everyone wants to avoid death; everything is done on the orders of the commissar and everyone is loyal. The commissar is the person who portions everything equally and fairly; food, rest, sleep, water and even the sun.

Everyone in the trench was turning their sight away from me, so that the commissar would not notice them looking at me. He was a harsh man, even more than the military code required. One time I noticed that Partena became golden brown from the large fireplace and when her hips gracefully swung the Vlach Vioreli’s eyes hung onto her. He was beaten on the shoulders like a village pillow but he was always with a cheerful protracted Vlach song on his lips which, more often than not, ended unfinished. They said that the Vlach songs lacked endings. Who knows, maybe I was left with such an impression. Kolakidis also sang similar songs. His family played the fiddle with a single string. “This is how we used to sing in Pondia (Turkey)…” Partena used to say.

God, we have all kinds of people here in this trench. A variety of people...

Through the shaft I could see the whiteness of the hanging branches laden with snow. We patiently waited for spring and for the sun to strike the white load. We could hear the crackle of the trees in the

silence as the snow weighed them down. But as much as the trees wanted to resist, once in a while there was a loud crack caused by the weight of the snow and by the bitter cold. I spent my nights looking up through the shaft. My grandmother introduced me to the stars and ever since then I had been looking at them and following their paths. I was certainly not afraid of the stupid fantasies that surfaced in my head. And maybe my grandmother was guilty of leaving me the legacy: “Do this and when you are in trouble, and when you are still not tied to a man… but a woman must be bound to a man, that is why she was created…” she used to say. “And when you are tied to a man that you want, then you must stick to the oath of allegiance...”

In my dreams I often pass out from bad luck. I feel overwhelmed being witness to all the pain in the world. I don’t want to believe that I will one day be bound by the oath of allegiance to one of these men. My rifle was beside me and it was as cold as a snake.

I touch it but I am afraid to aim it at a person. I know that in such moments only a dog will look you in the eyes… when you are pointing a rifle barrel at its head… a human cannot... The commissar said: “You should know that your opponent is doing the same thing to you...”

The shaft towards the exit of the machine gun barrel is narrower. This is how all shafts are made… designed and perfected during the major wars. Sometimes we call our trench a “Russian house”. The Bolshevik Red Army lived in trenches like this.

The only place light came into the trench was through the shaft. But this was not ordinary light like the kind that enters through a window in the morning. This light entered cautiously through the shaft and abruptly lost its intensity as it hit the rough earthen walls, looking like thick, reddish meat. The dampness and humidity was lifted by the heat of the burning logs and deposited as a thin layer of ice on the cold picks and shovels. There were cut pine tree roots sticking out of the walls excreting sap, like tears flowing from the eyes of a tired person, seeming like the wounded trees were weeping. I spend almost the entire day lying down on the dry fern bed with my body boiling in lice. It varied how the lice behaved

from time to time. They become most aggressive when it was time for them to lay their eggs in the hairy parts on a person. After that they were hungry and sucked our blood. They loved to attack a clean body. They made me very angry to a point of going mad. I don’t know why but Partena lacked basic sensitivity. When we were alone close to the fire she would sometimes do inappropriate things. She would place her hand on her crotch between her thighs, grab at her hairy part, pull out her clenched fist and angrily mumble: “It’s a louse… a male louse!” It has been biting me for a long time, looking for a place to make a nest…” She then would toss the louse and the hairs she had pulled out into the fire. When the lice wanted to lay eggs they rushed around angrily climbing on a person’s hairs. Every one of us knew that. Partena was an intelligent woman and sometimes wanted fulfillment out of her life. She often combed and washed herself. She wanted to spray herself with some frankincense or pine oil, which she did not have so most of the time she used scented soap, the kind they gave the women here… only the women.

There was no draft of air in the trench because there were no windows or doors with cracks. There was only a single hole serving as a door. This hole was well covered with thick layers of fern, which did not allow the cold air to snake into our trench. And oh, my God, in no time at all I began to call it “my” or “our” trench. Sometimes I thought that all of us here were sick with some kind of madness but I have not been able, among all these people here, to spot any kind of threat, malice or twitching of eyes or lips, or any desire in the people to want to kill. Man is inherently good or evil. Oh, it’s best I keep quiet. Our female mystery is indeed strange. I noticed a long time ago that when Aleksandar entered the trench he smiled at me but would not look at me for fear of being discovered.

I am weak and lonely. My dream will not leave me. I think about it, I try to get into the psychology of war and of man who eventually becomes a silent warrior, but I can’t. One day I looked in the distance and watched the troops on the other side. Both sides used big megaphones to curse and swear at one another in the name of our convictions. Partena’s voice reverberated through the tall pine trees. One of them from the other side responded to her and said:

“You are a whore, that’s why you are with partisans. Real and decent armies have no women soldiers...” There was silence. I wanted to jump in and defend her but then I thought about it and said to myself, “Let the men do it.”

It was cold even in bed. I lay there and thought about the various embarrassing things that could happen to me. I saw a new civilization. I slowly thought of all my troubles lying there in twilight and the cold. I had not a single document with me.

No one asked for a birth certificate, I simply had only my name Melina. In the Commissar’s book I was Melina Papadimou from Patra. Six months had passed and I had not died, on the contrary I began to live in the war… with the war… and this war like every other war had its own most beautiful unsung song.

This is how I greeted 1949. For the New Year’s reception we received food consisting of powdered milk and baked potatoes. We were all filled with the most peculiar will to live life in our trench underground, under the winds of Gramos. We all celebrated the New Year cheering for a comfortable victory. It was war and perhaps we may never see each other together like this again.

Lying there in the cold, dark and damp trench night after night I learned some things...

Those who snore the most sleep the best… One night I decided to wait for Aleksandar. He was out with the scouts from another trench. I wanted to congratulate him for the New Year.

His portion of food was intact. Partena was clinging to me, the cold kept her awake.

I kept quiet and listened to Aleksandar’s footsteps as he approached the trench. He then carefully lifted the rain screen from the door. I felt a sharp gust of wind enter the trench. The first thing he did was stretch his long arms in front of the fireplace as if he wanted to hug the fire. He then gracefully removed his long overcoat from his tall body, warmed it on the fire and sat it on the beech wood stump.

He moved around looking at the sleeping bodies. When he came towards me he lingered for a moment and stared at my fragile but prominent hips. I kept the same rhythm of breathing and kept peeking under the sleeve of my long overcoat.

He had shiny buttons on his officer’s uniform, which shone like the eyes of a hungry cat in the dark. I don’t know what came over me, over my female lunatic mind, but at that very moment I wanted to get up and, like a good housekeeper, stoke the fire so that he could warm up faster, but then I thought: What am I, a half-wit? When he finished eating his portion of food he stretched out his body like a typical male. Maybe it was the pleasure of the heat that made him do that? I continued to secretly watch him. He lifted his knee slightly… I admired his thick, lush and slightly messed up hair with strands hanging loose over his forehead. His looked very attractive to me. He attracted me like a magnet, pulling on me with some kind of magic erotica.

Gently and calmly Aleksandar prepared to go to bed. I watched him, following his every move. I then continued to watch him through a secret peep hole that allowed me to see through the screen of stacked ferns separating the women’s sleeping quarters from those of the men’s. But I could not stand there for more than a few seconds before being noticed. When I saw that he had closed his eyes, I slowly slipped my hand over the barrier and I touched his warm lips; a “Happy New Year” gift from me to him.

He looked timid but startled. My touch must have startled him. I leaned over the barrier and put my hand over his mouth and held it there. He opened his eyes and looked at me. I saw excitement on his face. His eyes were glued to mine.

“God, what’s happening?” he whispered through my hand. When he saw that I was calm he hesitantly lifted his arm, shook my hand and whispered:

“Happy New Year to you too, Melina…”

I extended my arm out and he too excitedly did the same. He flourished with pride. He looked at me with wide open eyes and

tight lips, looking like a petrified figure. But this was not enough for me. I wanted him to hug me, squeeze me and make my bones creak. I think men like to do that. With a smile on my face and with an open heart I wanted him to say: “I like you, Melina!” to which I would reply, “I know,” and wait for him to say: “You know?”

But, looking like an eternally sad boy, he handed me a needle. I touched it and stabbed myself… It felt like I had been stabbed in my heart with a sharp dagger. Did he want to honour me as his future wife? I wanted to make my pledge with a kiss but the fern barrier was between us left me standing there with puckered lips. One of those sleeping made a noise. They probably wanted to turn over. I looked and saw a face with a sharp nose and pale cheeks without a smile.

It was Vasil Klechovski – Pobratimot. This is what Aleksandar calls him. I now call him that too. Sometimes Vasil and Aleksandar sat in front of the fireplace and sang beautiful Macedonian songs. I learned some of their songs and still remember them now.

“A beautiful girl with two needles, one with silver thread and the other with silk. She is knitting socks for me… I don’t know if I should wear them or love them...”

They also used to sing the Russian song “Volga, Volga, Russian River, wide and deep...”

This is what they sang in the trench during the windy nights on Gramos. Pobratimot Vasil cleared his throat and went back to sleep.

There was only silence now.

Aleksandar was shaking like a young pine tree in the wind. He then sighed a strange sigh. The commissar began to snore loudly. I cautiously slid my view away, thinking that we had been exposed… perhaps it was court-martial for us…

Military laws are strange. I freed myself of my muscle stiffness. I just realized how tired I was... I too sighed a strange sigh and at the same time felt my body sliding over the layers of dry fern.

I stared at the fire a long time. “God, will I forget who brought me into this world?” I thought to myself. I miss my mother. If she was here she would say: “I see you have found yourself a young man! Do you love him?” My mother would have been very happy for me and would have told our entire family.

I finally retreated to my cold bed, peering through the peep hole at Aleksandar, who still stirred like a tormented tired bull. But as time passed he increasingly became part of my shattered shell of a life. That night I became an inaccessible wild flower for Aleksandar.

When I was trying to sleep all I saw were wonderful flowers opening before my closed eyes. Sometimes, while looking at my hands, I thought that day and night were mixed together. The trench walls were slimy and dingy and no one wanted to touch them. I existed for more than six months in that trench; trench number two, or as everyone else called it “Commissar Likourgos’s trench”. In the evening we all sat around the fire until we felt sleepy. The men were sprawled all over the place, they were used to doing that and one could see their manhood become noticeable from the heat of the fire...

My life became one strange heavy bracelet grasping at my neck, constricting my breathing. Perhaps that’s what drove me to want to be protected. These people here lived simple lives doing the same thing day after day. They, in fact, were simple people and now I have become one of them. God, life will teach you to do anything including be all alone with your own bad thoughts. My dreams torture me the most; both good and bad dreams. They strip naked and tighten my soul inside this trench. During the long nights, probably because of my fear without reason that someone heard us, I take my canteen and drink it down my dry throat to the last drop. Drinking the water made me feel better and allowed me to melt away in the silence of the night.

It was January 6th, Christmas Eve by the old calendar. It was early morning. The darkness outside was replaced by daylight and the airplanes were flying overhead in a cloudless sky.

They were majestic and calm. The sun reflected on their wings. The sky was filled with their noise, and the last burning coals in our trench were smouldering. The airplanes dropped a cluster of bombs and the snow rose up like ash from an erupting volcano. Everybody ran for the trees like hunted wild animals. I felt blood trickling down my body. I was afraid of my blood being spilled out. My fear petrified me and I fell down in the snow.

I awoke and felt like I was being lured by some kind of dream. I was wearing a long nightgown. By habit I extended my hand to my collar but I could not find the needle. “It was not there…” I began to sweat.

The strong excitement woke me up. I could smell blood and medicine. I looked around, to my left, then to my right but I could not understand what was happening.

How could I have forgotten so many things? Oh my God, have I been captured by the enemy? And where did all these other women lying here come from? I lifted my head and turned slightly to look for my needle. My military clothes were gone. While I was struggling with the many messy thoughts that entered my mind, Partena appeared in front of me. She was standing there being supported by two roughly carved crutches. She looked beautiful, flamboyant, lustful and full of life. She smiled.

“Melina!” she screamed and fell on top of me, hugging me. But still I felt funny like I was in some desolate place in a field hospital located somewhere in a deep forest in the back of the front line, on the rugged slopes of Gramos.

When she told me that Aleksandar had carried me in his arms all the way to the shelter at headquarters I regained my composure. The nurses quickly returned my blood-soaked clothing and uniform. I only took the needle out and sent everything else back. Partena smiled and said: “You will get well soon.”

Almost every day I pushed Partena to tell me more about what happened to us, how we were wounded and about our way to headquarters. God, sometimes I get some crazy thoughts in my head.

I even thought of rearranging the trench for family life... When I thought of the words “I want us to have a son...” that Aleksandar had said to me, perhaps he was saying this to make me happy, I realized that women are not for war. “Oh my God,” I said to myself, “I hope I am not crazy, why am I so preoccupied with having a child while the war is raging on…”

I tried to fall asleep but I couldn’t. I then tested the tip of my needle on my finger and stabbed myself. It was a good but painful feeling which made me scream. Ah, those tiny stabs of hope; they occasionally poke me in my heart... This was how I spent more than four months. Spring was everywhere and I began to feel swelling in my chest, God how I wished for Aleksandar…

I remember one time… It was a windy and cold day and the clouds were moving fast. The tall trees were groaning and creaking under the strain of the wind as if they were trying to tell me something. Most of the trenches were damaged and filled with water from the spring rains and, while walking through the trees, I met new people and often wondered what happened to our unit. Then from far away I saw Vasil Klechovski’s face, or as we often called him “Pobratimot”.

“Pobratime!” I screamed out loudly. Then I said to myself “Oh, thank God I found them”.

I became slightly anxious and red in the face because I was thinking of Aleksandar and whether he was going to give me a kiss in front of all of them. Will we step out of our military discipline and do something crazy? I am a woman, what else should I be thinking about if not about my Aleksandar?

And so I adjusted my military uniform and ran towards Pobratimot. I noticed he was avoiding looking at me. He had grown old, his hair was grey and he walked with his head down. He put down his backpack and machine gun. There was silence… all the new soldiers were looking at me intensely.

I was boiling with pride and suspicion… then, suddenly I felt like I was hit by a machine gun burst. He was not looking at anyone, his

eyes were full of tears and he let out a few painful sighs. He then turned his face towards me and with great sadness, unable even to muster the strength to utter the name Aleksandar, said to me: “Melina… Melina, take these binoculars and I will point you to see his grave…”

“Aleksandar,” he said, “was badly wounded. He lost both legs and his left arm. His face was deformed and he was in terrible pain. I carried him on my shoulders for a long time. He never stopped begging me to shoot him… his pain was too great to endure. He kept cursing me and begging me to kill him because, as he said: ‘I don’t want Melina to see me this way… Please shoot me!’…”

Being unable to control my emotions I yelled out very loud: “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! It is not true… It can’t be true… because I carry the truth about him in my womb...” with a voice that echoed through the rugged slopes of Gramos.