Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor

by Nick Vellis

  “Will we have any trouble unloading our passengers?” Pantheras asked.

  “No, your Excellency,” the foreman said, “I’ll write a message to the man in charge. He’s my cousin. He has helped others escape.”

  Turning to Zabt, John said, “You’ll have to take care of the sentries, but be quiet about it. There’re sure to be more krauts in town than there were here. Work out with Christos how you’ll handle it ahead of time.

  “I wish you’d let me come with you, L-T. We’ve had a lot of luck together. We’re a good team. I don’t know how I’ll catch back up with you,” Zabt said.

  “George, you’re getting out, going on the boats.”

  “No, L-T, I’m not.”

  “I need you to get these people out and take care of Ceres. He goes, too,” John said. “You’ll have to explain to HQ what we’ve run into, how we’re going to handle it, and make the case for the transport we need. It’ll be better in person. Here,” Pantheras said, handing the sergeant a leather pouch, “take this, too. It’s all those damn After Action Reports and a letter for the Major. You understand your mission?

  “Yes, sir,” Zabt replied tersely.

  “Any questions?”

  “No questions, sir.”

  “Cut out the sir stuff, will ya?” John said extending his hand.

  “Sure, good luck …. John,” Zabt said, shaking his commanding officer’s hand.

  “You too, George. Now get moving.

  George was right. They were a good team, John thought, as he hustled down the office steps toward an open boxcar.

  He looked at the crates then broke into one with a pry bar.

  John whistled and said aloud. “The krauts are gunna go nuts when they find out this stuff’s missing.”

  John stared in amazement at easily two hundred pounds of mixed gemstones, thousands of pieces, maybe hundreds of thousands. No wonder the crates were so damn heavy, John thought.

  “Well, this isn’t what I’m looking for,” John said aloud. He quickly hammered down the lid and went to work on another box.

  He opened a second crate and was shocked again, this time by the sight of a dozens of irregular gold bars. Each one appeared to be about ten inches long, six inches wide and perhaps three inches thick, and had numbers and the Nazi swastika and eagle stamped into it. John let out another low whistle as he marveled at the cache of gold.

  After a moment’s contemplation, John put three bars in to a heavy leather mailbag he’d found in the dispatcher’s office. He added four more bars, but he couldn’t move it. John put the additional bars in a second bag and nailed the crate shut.

  Dragging the bags to the car door, he jumped to the ground. He wheeled a luggage wagon to the door and heaved the heavy bags on to it. John pushed the cart ahead of him, as he headed back to the dispatcher’s office. He found the two crewmen chosen for the train to the coast sitting outside the office, looking very worried.

  “OK, my friends, here’s something to change those frowns,” he said, opening the leather mailbag to reveal the men’s gleaming bribe. The gold had the desired effect as both men broke into a giant grins. “Keep those hidden. Each of you take one of these bags,” he said, pointing to a pile of heavy canvas sacks, “and put one bar in it. It’s yours,” John said.

  The two train men jumped to their task. They grunted and groaned as they struggled to move the bars. John laughed inwardly, thinking the bars weren’t that heavy.

  “You have your reward. Now get that train through,” John said.

  “Thank your Excellency, this is more than we imagined,” the engineer said. The fireman simply stood there with a huge grin.

  “Get those people through to Corfu. Do that and you’ll have earned it,” John said.

  Despite being weighted down by their newfound wealth, the fireman and engineer had a spring in their step as they headed off to prep their locomotive. John wondered what it felt like to carry a new life in your hands.

  John took one last bar out of the first leather bag and transferred it to his haversack. He put it on the luggage wagon with the remaining mailbag containing four bars.

  John slipped a piece of paper from his pocket, stared at it for a moment then tossed it in the office stove. Standing by the stove, watching a piece of paper burn, he tried to imagine the future. Would his plan work? What he’d missed, some eventuality he hadn’t counted on. He couldn’t think of anything. The train to the coast was set. He would ride toward Thessaloniki with Solaris until they caught up with the trucks. He’d send Solaris to deliver the ultimatum while he and his men hid the gold. John knew just where he was going to hide it, too. He’d worked out a simple code leading to the gold’s location. The original was now ash in the stove. He’d put the coded message in his notebook. He planned to give that to Ceres so he and the secret would be out reach of the Germans. Yes, he had it all worked out, John thought to himself.

  Christos slipped quietly into the office as John looked up and smiled. “Thank you for going on the train. I know those people will be safer with you on there,” John said, getting up to shake his friend’s hand.

  “I should stay with you, John. You have the most dangerous part. Solaris is the devil. Don’t turn your back on him. You saw what he did to his German friends,” Christos said with moist eyes.

  “I’ll watch him. You be careful, too. Watch that train crew, too. They might leave you if they think they can get away with it,” John said.

  “I will, my friend. Until we meet again,” Christos said as he embraced the American.

  “You’re a good man, Christos. It’s been an honor to fight with you,” John said.

  “And you as well, my friend. I have not known you long, but I think of you as a brother. Farewell,” Christos said and then, biting his lower lip, he turned and left without another word.

  Permission to send the refugees to Corfu came within an hour as promised. Three boats would arrive in two nights’ time to take the Jews safely to Italy. Arrangements for subsequent evacuations were in the works. John drew a sigh of relief. Now he had to set his plan in motion.

  “Lieutenant, thank you for all you have done and are doing for our people,” Hiram Solomon said as John approached.

  The two men shook hands. “Don’t thank me yet Mr. Solomon. You aren’t out of the country,” John said.

  “Just the same, we’re very grateful.”

  “You had better take this,” John said, picking up a heavy mailbag from the cart and handing it to the Jewish leader.

  Hiram wrinkled his brow then said, “What’s this?” taking the heavy bag in his arms.

  “You’ll need it when you get to Italy,” John said.

  “You’d better get going. Have a safe journey. I hope we’ll send many more people after you,” John said as Solomon mounted the steps to the coach.

  “Good-bye, lieutenant. God bless you,” Solomon said as he disappeared into the coach car.

  John saw George and Christos waving from the locomotive that they were ready to go. He returned their wave but turned when he heard running feet behind him.

  Ceres ran up to John, tears in his eyes. “L-T John, why are you making me go?” the boy cried as he threw himself into John’s arms. “I want to stay here with you.”

  “Look, Ceres,” John said as he hugged the boy, “I need someone I can trust to get these people through. You’re the best man for the job.”

  “But Sergeant George, he goes, and Christos. I stay here with you,” the boy sniffed back more tears.

  “No, Ceres, I want you to go. It’s important,” John said as he lifted Ceres up into the boxcar, where several others were waiting. The boy’s hands slipped off the big American who said, “You have to tell our story.”

  “No, L-T John, no” Ceres cried, reaching out for his friend.

  John remembered the haversack and shrugged it off his shoulder. He fished his black notebook out of his pocket and dropped it into the bag then heaved it into the car as it began to roll.r />
  “This is for you. Take care of it,” John said.

  Ceres reached out for John, but a woman in the car held him back. His struggles pushed the haversack right to the car’s edge. It caught in the door track as the car’s momentum moved the boxcar’s heavy door. It slammed shut on the bag, and an object fell from the car. John could see the end of haversack flapping in the breeze as the car picked up speed and Ceres’ cries faded.

  “Take care Ceres,” John called as he waved. “We’ll see each other soon,” John said, but he knew he’d never see the boy again.

  One car after another passed him until the caboose flew by. John stepped onto the tracks as the train receded into the distance. Something shiny glinted at his feet, and he picked it up. He smiled as he realized he was holding half of Ceres’ gold bar, smashed flat on one end, scrapes, and rust from the heavy door marring its gleaming surface. “Maybe I will see that little guy again.” He said aloud, with only the wind to hear him.

  John walked slowly to his waiting train.

  “The boy cares a great deal for you, lieutenant. You’re his family now,” the captain said, having witnessed the tender scene.

  “Guess so, since you killed his father and brother,” John replied.

  “What, I didn’t killed Alec Savas. He’s my commanding officer, the captain replied.

  Not knowing what to make of the captain’s denial John boarded the train. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” John said.

  Less than an hour south of Veria, the train met the Americans in the trucks as planned. John was glad to see they were all right.

  “OK captain you better get going. Remember,” John, said, “for every train load of Jews he sends out, we’ll give him some the crates. If he goes back on his word, he gets nothing.”

  “The governor will be very unhappy, but it will be my pleasure to tell him all about your plan,” the captain chuckled. “Good-bye, Lieutenant,” Solaris said as he mounted the steps.

  Solaris’ train headed to Thessaloniki with five boxes out of the hundreds with which he’d started. John and his six men headed into the hills to hide a treasure.

  CHAPTER 12 OCCUPIED GREECE 26 OCTOBER 1944

  “Twenty men overpowered you, a force of over a hundred? You expect me to believe that?” SS Oberst Max Dorn said in a low but barely controlled voice. In the comfort of his sumptuous office, peering from behind his massive rosewood desk, the SS officer cast an incredulous gaze at the Greek collaborator. “You may be the dandy of the Security Battalion, Solaris, but to me, you’re just a traitor like that slippery man you work for. How did twenty men stop a train?”

  “Herr Oberst,” Solaris said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he stood at attention before his inquisitor. “Sabotage to the rails stopped the train. The Greeks and the Americans swarmed the train. It was a well-planned and executed ambush.

  Hauptmanns Carlst and Stroheim dismounted to examine the damage to the rail but died heroically when they came under fire. Hauptman Gruber returned fire from the command coach steps but succumbed to his wounds. I was on the opposite side of the train organizing repairs to the track. I summoned my men, but they caught us in the open. It was a small force but well placed and well led. The battle was short, but we were indeed overpowered,” Solaris said, hoping his lies sounded convincing. He’d had plenty of time to concoct his story. Now he only hoped it worked.

  “Hardly a battle, I would say. I see all the Wehrmacht officers, and men I sent to watch you were killed.” Dorn said, looking up from the captain’s written report. “How many of your own men did you lose defending the Reich’s property Captain?” the German commander said.

  “Five killed, three wounded Herr Oberst,” the captain said sharply, hoping his superior would not check up on him.

  “That fact seems to have been omitted from your report,” Dorn said.

  “Yes, Herr Oberst,” the captain replied.

  “Explain to me where the Reich’s property has been taken and what these gangsters expect us to do.”

  “The Americans seized the train’s cargo. They plan to use it as a ransom for the release of the Jewish prisoners,” Solaris replied, relaxing a little now that the discussion had moved away from the attack.

  “How is this to be accomplished?”

  “We’re to go where the train stopped. It’s an open area with commanding high ground on three sides. A trainload of no fewer than 500 Jews is to arrive at that location by 1200 hours each Thursday, beginning day after tomorrow.

  “How will we retrieve our property?” Dorn asked.

  “The prisoners will walk west from the train. When they are out of sight we will be given further instructions,” holding up one of the American walkie-talkies, “on this device where to go for the ransom. The cargo will be broken into many parts. We will retrieve a few crates at a time. This device,” again holding up the walkie-talkie, “has limited range so the Americans will be nearby.”

  “Quite ingenious,” Dorn muttered.

  “Thank you, sir,” Solaris said proudly.

  “Not you, you buffoon, the American. He risks much for these Jews, but he has a well thought out plan. This area is within range of our air reconnaissance, is it not?” the German said.

  “It is, Herr Oberst. However, the Americans will not provide the location of the crates if they detect air reconnaissance or the presence of our troops,” Solaris said. “Their position provides excellent opportunities for observation, Herr Oberst.”

  “Do you know how he intends to get these people out of the country?”

  “No, Herr Oberst. Perhaps they will live in the hills,” Solaris said.

  “He would have to feed them. That is a task the German Army has avoided, the logistics, the expense and ... political considerations. Feeding thousands of people in the hills would be impossible,” Dorn said.

  “Jesus did it in the Bible, Herr Oberst. Perhaps the American is a religious man,” Solaris replied.

  The SS officer was not amused. After enduring several tense moments of Dorn’s chilling stare in silence, Solaris said, “What are your orders, Herr Oberst?”

  “Orders? Recover the Reich’s property. You will provide me with a plan before the end of the day. Now get out of here before I change my mind and have you shot.”

  Reunited with his men and Rabbi Keses, Pantheras laid out the bones of his plan. When his lieutenant had finished, Sgt. Nick Sanna said, “No disrespect, L-T, but did you get hit in the head while we were gone? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sgt. Sanna was smiling, but worried. The men laughed, but there was a tension in the air.

  “Wish I had, ‘cause then I’d have an excuse for this hairbrained idea,” John said. “It boils down to this. The Nazis will be pulling out of the country, maybe soon, but they plan to deport and kill thousands of Jewish civilians before they go. Looking at his men and the three Andartes he’d borrowed from Christos he continued. “Now there’s the seven of us. With our Andartes friends, we can muster maybe twenty-five more. We can destroy their supplies and vehicles, we can ambush the bastards, but we’re like a gnat on an elephant’s behind.”

  John took a couple steps and looked up into the clear blue sky. “But if we get the Nazis running around looking for this stuff,” he said, motioning to the trucks parked behind him, “then we tie up hundreds, maybe thousands of troops. We accomplish our mission of disrupting the Germans, and maybe save the lives of a few hundred, maybe thousands of Greek civilians. These people aren’t just Jews, they’re Greeks too.”

  “L-T, we’re with ya, but you got to admit it’s risky,” Gus Kasseris said.

  “Sergeant, Lt. Pantheras is right,” the Rabbi said. “Remember, no man is worth his salt that is not ready at all times to risk his well-being, to risk his body, to risk his life in a great cause.”

  “Is that a Jewish proverb Rabbi?” John asked.

  “No, lieutenant, that’s a quote from one of your presidents, Theodore Roosevelt,” Rabbi Keses
replied.

  Gus quickly translated for the three Andartes, who nodded.

  The men stood silent, alone with the sound of the wind. Finally someone spoke.

  “What do we do first, L-T?” Spiro Costos asked. Spiro was the quiet, withdrawn one among the men so everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

  “What? I can’t ask a question?” Spiro said.

  The Americans laughed while their Andartes friends looked on, perplexed.

  “What do we do?” John said. “First, we stash the stuff in the trucks, then we retrieve the crates we left by the rail line. The first group of refugees should arrive there tomorrow. We have to be finished moving the loot by then. We’ll need observation posts on those hill tops,” John said pointing to the surrounding hills. “and a way to cover the train in case of trouble. Let’s get moving. There’s a lot to do. Head southeast.”

  The end of their long drive brought no relief for the men. They stretched their legs briefly only to begin unloading and hiding their heavy cargo. The ten men slept hard for a few hours, grabbed some hot food, and were on the move again. Then they drove back toward the ambush point, to wait. The vehicles pulled up next to the freshly turned earth that covered the crates.

  “OK, men, dig here,” John said. “Spiro, get some ropes ready. We’ll use them to pull out the crates. Sing out when you hit something.”

  An hour’s work uncovered the crates. The men struggled to remove them from the ground and then packed them in the trucks. When they were nearly finished, John said, “OK men. Leave ten of them here. Stack ‘em up so they can be seen from the rail line.”

  “That’s a generous down payment, lieutenant,” Rabbi Keses said.

  “When you deal with a rabid dog, it’s good to feed it, Rabbi,” John said. “I want them to be anxious for the next load.”

  The Rabbi nodded solemnly.

  “L-T,” Sgt. Gus Kasseris said as he approached his commanding officer.

  “Yeah, Gus. What’s up?” John said.

  “It’s the trucks, L-T. We’re low on fuel. We might make it another thirty miles, but after that we’re toast.”