Partisan

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Then what will we do when we meet the Germans?’

  ‘Our objective must be to not meet any Germans.’

  It was now quite dark, partly because of the heavy pall of smoke which hung above the city. An eerie red half-light rose from the many burning buildings. There was a great deal of noise as the invaders, no doubt helped by the local constabulary and fire brigades, attempted to control the various blazes. Occasionally there was a rumbling explosion as they blew up ruined houses, or a rumbling crash as something fell down. There was also an occasional gunshot, and even burst of automatic fire; it was impossible to say whether this meant that there was continuing resistance or that the Germans were shooting people they did not like the look of.

  ‘Time to go,’ he said.

  *

  They retreated to the rear of the bath-house, and used the back door.

  ‘I have been here fifteen years,’ Ivkov said sadly. ‘Will I ever see it again?’

  ‘Of course, if you wish to,’ Tony said, more certainly than he actually felt. ‘You will come back after the war.’

  ‘After the war,’ Elena muttered.

  ‘Do you think my apartment will still be there?’ Sandrine asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Tony said again. ‘The Germans will not bomb Belgrade again. If your apartment is there now, it will be there when you come back.’

  He wondered if he had chosen his words correctly, especially as he should have added, if you come back.

  But Sandrine was thinking of other things. ‘All my good clothes are there,’ she said. ‘All of my books. My photo albums . . .’

  That such personal treasures might survive really was a pipe dream. Tony hurried on. ‘There must be no noise,’ he told them. ‘No talking. Just follow the person in front of you. I will lead with you, Ivkov, as this is your part of town. You will come next, Elena, and then you, Sandrine. You two privates will follow, and you, Sergeant Matanovic, will bring up the rear. There can be no straggling. Anyone who drops out will have to be on his own. Equally, there must be no shooting. Understood?’

  They nodded, their faces, now indistinct in the gloom, looking suitably determined.

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  *

  Tony stepped out into the open air and inhaled; his nostrils were instantly assailed by a variety of odours, ranging from the smell of scorching wood and billowing smoke to the stench of death. It was now some eighteen hours since Belgrade had suffered its first casualty, and very few had as yet been buried or even moved from where they lay.

  He crept forward cautiously, keeping to one side of the street to stay in the shade of the shops and houses, but every so often having to move out as he came upon a fire. He did not look back, but he could hear Ivkov panting behind him, and from time to time the bath-keeper would touch him on the shoulder to indicate the direction he should follow. Certainly the fat old man, however lecherous he might be, was proving invaluable.

  Tony kept them going for over an hour before he held up his hand to signal a rest. Instantly the two women sank to the ground with various grunts. They were still surrounded by heat, flame and noise, but thus far they had seen no Germans.

  ‘How much further?’ Tony whispered to Ivkov.

  ‘We are already in the suburbs. Another hour will see us out of the city.’

  ‘Another hour,’ Sandrine groaned. ‘I cannot go another hour.’

  ‘We may have to walk all night,’ Elena told her.

  ‘I cannot do that. My feet are in agony. You will have to leave me.’

  ‘I will carry you,’ Tony said.

  ‘Would you?’ Her face lit up.

  ‘You are going to carry her all night?’ Elena asked.

  ‘We will all carry her,’ Matanovic said. ‘We will take turns.’

  He looked at his men, who nodded eagerly.

  ‘Oh,’ Sandrine said.

  ‘I will carry her too,’ Ivkov volunteered. ‘I will carry her first.’

  ‘Oh!’ Sandrine remarked again.

  ‘I will carry her first,’ Tony said. ‘And for as long as possible.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’ Elena asked.

  ‘You’ll have to get on my back,’ Tony decided, as Sandrine also looked uncertain. ‘Put your legs round my waist and your arms round my neck.’

  He half stooped as Sandrine climbed on to him, watched with great interest by the other men as she hitched her skirt up to her thighs and as Tony put his hands behind himself to hold her buttocks and get her into the best possible position. Each man was obviously anticipating his turn.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Her face nuzzled his neck. ‘You are a good man,’ she said, this being apparently the first time she had considered the matter. ‘I will never forget the way you are taking care of me.’

  ‘We are all taking care of you,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Those others,’ – she gave an interesting shudder against his back – ‘they only want to get their hands on me.’ Then she gave a little giggle. ‘I forgot. You would like to get your hands on me too.’

  ‘I already have my hands on you,’ he reminded her, reaching behind him to give her another squeeze. ‘Now concentrate.’

  As Ivkov had promised, after another forty-five minutes the houses began to thin. By then Tony was feeling the strain. Sandrine was a small woman, and he did not suppose she weighed much more than eight stones, but that was eight stones more than he was used to carrying.

  He gave a sigh of relief as he set her down. ‘Next donkey.’

  ‘Me,’ Ivkov answered before anyone else could get in.

  ‘Oh, lord,’ Sandrine muttered, but she climbed on to the big man’s back.

  ‘You are making him very happy,’ Elena pointed out, and moved up to be beside Tony. ‘Did she not make you very happy?’

  ‘She made me very tired,’ Tony said.

  Elena snorted. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the way my feet are feeling, I may soon be making you more tired yet.’

  Now they saw people, peering at them from round corners. Some were even still in their homes, looking out of the windows. Here in the suburbs there was less damage. Most of the people hurried off when they saw them, as at least three of them were identifiable as soldiers.

  But the fact that this area appeared virtually undamaged gave Tony an idea. ‘Cover me,’ he told Matanovic, and went up the front path of one of the houses in a terrace, which had recently been repainted to suggest some prosperity on the part of its owner. More importantly, he had caught the glimmer of a candle behind the window overlooking the street.

  He knocked. There was no immediate response, but the candle went out. He knocked again. ‘Open up,’ he said, ‘or I shall break the door.’

  He heard movement, and then the bolt was drawn. The door opened a few inches and a woman peered at him. She was small, well-dressed, quite good-looking, and not very old, he estimated, although fear and anxiety made her appear older than she probably was.

  ‘We are Yugoslav soldiers,’ Tony said. ‘Will you let us in?’

  ‘The Germans will shoot me. They were here this afternoon, and they told me that harbouring fugitives is a capital offence. You must go away.’

  Matanovic had joined him while the others waited on the path; Ivkov reluctantly set Sandrine on the ground, where she promptly sat. ‘The Germans can only shoot you, madame, if they know we were here,’ the sergeant pointed out.

  ‘Do you not suppose my neighbours have seen you?’

  ‘Are your neighbours not your friends?’

  She made a moue. ‘Some of them.’

  ‘We will not be long, but we need your help.’

  ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Just let us in,’ Tony said. ‘Five minutes.’

  She hesitated, looking past him in an attempt to determine how many of her neighbours might be watching, but with all the houses opposite in darkness it was impossible to tell. Then she stood back and opened the door.

  They ente
red the house, Elena putting her arm round Sandrine’s waist to help her up the steps.

  ‘Are you alone?’ Matanovic asked.

  Tony was content to allow him to do the talking, as these were his people.

  ‘I have my children.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘We are here,’ said a boy.

  Tony peered into the gloom, identified two small bodies. Elena had identified a settee, and on this she laid Sandrine, who gave a sigh of relief.

  ‘You have a candle,’ Matanovic said. ‘We saw it from outside. Light it, Maric,’ he told one of his soldiers, ‘and draw the blinds.’

  Maric obeyed. A match scraped, and a moment later the candle was lit.

  ‘Hold it up,’ Tony said to the woman.

  She did so, and he was able to look around. It was a cultivated room, with masses of photographs, a few prints on the walls, overstuffed furniture, and good carpets. The two children, a boy and a girl, were hardly teenagers, he estimated. ‘Where is your husband?’

  ‘I do not know. He went out, and did not come back. Now I do not know if he will be able to. The Germans have announced a curfew. Anyone seen on the streets after dark will be shot. You will be shot.’

  ‘It’s becoming a habit,’ Tony agreed. ‘We need shoes.’

  ‘Shoes?’ She looked down at his feet.

  ‘For the ladies.’

  She looked at Elena and Sandrine in turn, obviously wondering if the word lady could possibly be applied to two such bedraggled and tattered creatures.

  ‘You see they have none,’ Tony explained. ‘Have you anything that might fit?’

  The woman moved closer to look at Sandrine. ‘Is she wounded?’

  ‘No. It is her feet. From being barefoot.’

  The woman bent over the Frenchwoman, holding the candle close. Sandrine instinctively drew up her legs, away from the flame. ‘This is very bad. There are open cuts.’

  ‘That is why she must have shoes,’ Elena said.

  ‘She needs medication,’ the woman said. ‘I will fetch some.’

  ‘You have medication?’ Elena asked.

  ‘My husband has. He is a doctor.’

  ‘And you know how to use it?’

  ‘Before I married Josef, I was a nurse.’

  ‘Well, glory be,’ Tony commented. ‘Seems we have fallen on our feet. Go with her, Elena, and see what you can find in the way of shoes.’

  ‘Take the candle,’ the woman said. ‘I have another.’

  The two women left the room and from the creaks appeared to be climbing some stairs. Tony sat on the settee beside Sandrine. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘I am in agony. But I am sorry to be such a nuisance.’

  ‘We’re just glad to have you with us. I know I am speaking for all of us.’

  She made a face, and he looked at her feet, gently pulling away the remaining pieces of bathing costume. She winced, but did not speak. Like the woman, he did not like what he saw. Apart from being bruised and cut, as well as singed, both feet were starting to swell. It was going to be a few days before she would be able to walk again. But my God, he thought, if infection sets in, or perhaps gangrene . . . The thought of having to cut off Sandrine’s feet was not acceptable, even if he could find a surgeon to do it for him.

  ‘She will have food,’ Matanovic said, kneeling beside Tony. ‘Shall we not take some of it?’

  ‘Did you not say that looting is punishable by death?’

  ‘We would requisition it. We would give her a receipt. We could even pay her for it, now. I have money.’

  ‘And she and her two children would probably starve,’ Tony pointed out. ‘We don’t know how soon they’ll be able to obtain any more food.’

  ‘And will we not starve, sir? That food we brought with us will only do for one more meal.’

  ‘We are soldiers, Sergeant Matanovic. Being hungry goes with the job.’

  ‘I am not a soldier,’ Sandrine remarked softly.

  He grinned at her. ‘You have been conscripted.’

  She stuck out her tongue at him.

  Elena and the woman returned. ‘Look what I found,’ Elena said, displaying the lace-up walking boots she was wearing.

  ‘Brilliant! You’re the best shod of us all, now.’ But Tony could not stop himself from looking at the woman; she was half the size of Elena, and had tiny feet.

  ‘They belong to my husband,’ the woman said. ‘I have a pair of my own which will fit this lady. When she can put them on. Now let me see . . .’ She began working on Sandrine’s feet. She had bottles of antiseptic and various ointments. But she also had a bowl of water, with which she carefully washed the savaged flesh. Sandrine moaned a bit and did some weeping, but on the whole she bore up very well. Finally the woman bandaged both feet, and when that was done, inserted them carefully into the boots and laced them in turn. ‘That is the best I can do. But she will not be able to walk very far.’

  ‘We will carry her,’ Ivkov said, anxious to resume his duties.

  The woman nodded. ‘But when next you stop, you must take off the boots and the bandages, and let the flesh breathe. Then’ – she gave Tony a tube of ointment – ‘apply some more of this on her feet, and re-bandage them.’

  Tony pocketed the tube, and then led the woman into the corner. ‘You have been very helpful,’ he said.

  ‘Are you going to fight the Nazis?’

  ‘If we can.’

  ‘Then I am glad to be helpful.’

  ‘And we will always be grateful. Will you answer a question, truthfully?’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘Will the mademoiselle be all right?’

  ‘If you do as I say, I think so. She is your woman?’

  ‘Ah . . . no. She is a good friend.’

  ‘She should be your woman,’ the doctor’s wife said. ‘She is very pretty. Now you must go.’

  Tony nodded.

  ‘You have food?’

  ‘Enough.’

  She regarded him for some seconds, then she said, ‘Come.’

  She led him into the pantry and opened a walk-in larder, in which there hung several huge smoked hams. ‘Take one of these.’

  ‘I could not possibly do that,’ Tony protested. ‘What about you, and your children?’

  ‘There is enough here for us, for a long time.’

  ‘We will be eternally grateful. One day we will repay you.’

  ‘There is something you can do for me. My husband’s name is Dukic. Dr Josef Dukic. If you happen to meet up with him, will you tell him we are all right, and that the house was not bombed.’

  ‘I will do that, Madame Dukic.’

  Tony went back to his people; Sandrine stood up, and then sat down again. ‘It is too painful.’

  ‘Then it’s the same drill as before. Private Maric, you’re up next. Let’s go.’ He gave the ham to Elena.

  *

  An hour later they were clear of the houses and in open country. They made slow progress, both because they had to stop and rest at regular intervals, and because the terrain was very uneven and it was utterly dark. But they could soon tell they were on rising ground, and shortly after that stumbled into a fast-rushing stream, from which they were able to slake their thirst. Matanovic, who was carrying Sandrine, stumbled and fell to his knees, dislodging the woman so that she fell off him and into the water with a gigantic splash and one of her shrieks.

  Tony dragged her up and carried her to the bank.

  ‘My God,’ she said. ‘I am soaked through.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you want to strip off again,’ Elena said. ‘It’s becoming a habit.’

  ‘I have no intention of stripping off,’ Sandrine snapped. ‘But I shall certainly catch cold. On top of everything else.’ She was close to tears.

  ‘We’re all pretty wet,’ Tony told her. ‘At least you chaps can fill your canteens.’ He watched them as they did so, then stood up to look back down the slope and across the fields at the burning city.

  Mat
anovic stood beside him. ‘It makes the blood boil.’

  ‘Is Belgrade your home?’

  ‘Was Belgrade my home, sir. Yes. I was born there and have lived there all my life, save when on army duties.’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘No, sir. Thank God. But my parents are in there. If they are still alive.’

  ‘We must hope they are. Let’s move.’

  ‘Can we not stay here, sir? We are all very tired . . .’

  ‘We are too close to the city, Sergeant. Come daybreak the Germans will commence their cleaning-up operation all over again. We’ve been lucky so far. Let’s ride that luck for as long as it holds.’

  *

  By the first light they had covered a further five miles, Tony estimated. Now they really were exhausted, and when Tony led them into a gully in the hillside, they collapsed where they stood. He felt like doing the same, but he laid Sandrine – it was his fourth turn to carry her – on the ground, and then surveyed his command.

  ‘Is anyone hungry?’

  No one even responded.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Now, we are going to stay here until we see what the day brings. We may have to stay here all day. But we should be quite comfortable. We have food, and we have sufficient water, if we don’t drink it all at once. However, we do need to mount a lookout. I will take the first watch, for two hours, and then I will wake you, Sergeant.’

  ‘Sir,’ Matanovic muttered; his eyes were half shut.

  ‘So get on with it.’

  Tony moved to the front of the gully and stationed himself behind a bush; from there he could look down the sloping hillside. Belgrade was now just a distant cloud of smoke, and there was no evidence of any German activity outside of the town, save for a column of tanks rumbling along a road some five miles away. But the road led south rather than south-west, towards them. This seemed to indicate that the Germans were more intent upon consolidating their hold on the country than in rounding up stragglers from the Yugoslav army. But soon he saw aircraft flying low over the plain and sweeping over the hills as well. So they were still looking. What Tony and his group were going to do if they were spotted was difficult to determine. He had to believe they would not be, as long as they did not attempt to move themselves in daylight.