Anna swallowed her mouthful of pain au chocolat and cleared her throat. ‘Andartes? What does that mean?’
‘I thought I’d told you. That’s what we called those who fought in the resistance. We were a mixed group.’ She smiled fondly as she remembered. ‘Most of the men came from the hill villages. Some were shepherds. But there were also a few from the towns. One was a teacher. Another man had owned a share in a cargo ship. But that was sunk by the Italians and it ruined him. And there was me. Because I used to visit the Katarides house I acted as a go-between for the resistance in the town and the hills. I also spied on the Italians. They had an eye for the island’s womenfolk so it was easy to play them along and get them to reveal bits of information that might be of interest to the andartes.’
‘Wasn’t that dangerous?’
Eleni looked at her granddaughter as if she was a complete idiot. ‘Of course! If they had discovered what I was doing I would have been thrown in jail. Or worse. And perhaps they would have punished my mother and father as well.’
‘Did they know what you were doing?’
‘Not at first. I did not want them to get involved. In any case, they would have tried to stop me. At least, that would have been true for the two years when the Italians were in charge. Then, in nineteen forty-three. Italy surrendered and joined the Allies. The Germans had been expecting it and had made their preparations. They crushed those Italian troops who tried to resist and took the rest prisoners. That’s what happened on Lefkas. The Italians gave up their weapons and marched into captivity on the mainland, leaving us to the Germans. And then we discovered what true tyranny was.’
Her expression became strained for a moment. ‘But I am getting ahead of myself . . . Let me tell you about the early days of the resistance. One of the first demands the Italians made of us was to hand over all our firearms. Some people did, but most did not. They chose to hide them. Most of the guns on the island were antiques. Blunderbusses, shotguns, a few old rifles dating back to the previous century. But our men were good shots, as the enemy began to learn to their cost. Of course, what we needed were good weapons, explosives and so on. And also radios. The few that were on the island were soon confiscated and we felt cut off from the rest of the world. What we craved above all was news of the war. To know if the fascists were telling us the truth about their progress, or whether they were lying and we could live in hope of their defeat.’
Eleni leaned forward to pat Anna’s hand and chuckled. ‘These days, you and your friends can look everything up on the internet, no? Press a few keys and find out everything. Just like that!’ She gave a feeble snap of her fingers. ‘But in our time, it was easy to cut people off and starve them of information. It is strange how much you miss the news when you cannot get it . . . Anyway, we felt left to ourselves. If no one else could help us then we’d fight the Italians on our own. It started with small acts of sabotage. Some of their lorries were set on fire. Then a supply depot. In retaliation they arrested the local prefect and seized all the private vehicles on the island. In compensation for the burned lorries, they said. We also noticed a change in their attitude. They had been arrogant at first, but nothing is more ridiculous than an arrogant, puffed-up Italian and we laughed at them behind their backs. After the first attacks they began to treat us more harshly. Early the following year they nearly beat to death a boy I knew who they caught painting anti-fascist slogans on the walls of the prefecture where they had chosen to establish their headquarters. It was the boy’s father who took the next step. He lay in wait for a patrol marching through the hills above Lefkada and shot dead a sergeant. The colonel in command of the Italian garrison reacted at once. He rounded up ten men and had them bound and placed against the wall of the prefecture and announced that unless the man responsible for the death of his sergeant was handed over by the end of the day then all ten of his captives would be shot.’
Anna sucked in a breath. ‘What happened?’
‘The father gave himself up. He was a man of honour. At the time that counted for something. We had yet to learn how empty such gestures were in the kind of conflict that the island was caught up in. The colonel released his prisoners, and put the father up against the wall and gave the order for him to be shot.’
‘Were you there when it happened?’ Anna asked with a shiver of horror.
‘Yes. Like most of the townspeople. We stood in silence as they tied his hands and tried to put a blindfold on him. He refused it, twisting his head violently from side to side, all the time shouting, “God save Greece!” Again and again. Someone in the crowd tried to take up the cry but was instantly clubbed to the ground by an Italian soldier. So we stood and watched as they raised their rifles and fired . . . I remember it felt as if the sound had hit me like a blow. I clenched my eyes shut and when I opened them the father lay on the ground. He was not moving but the Italian officer in charge of the firing squad still strode to the body and stood over it, drew his pistol and fired into the man’s head. It filled my heart with hatred for the Italians and I resolved to fight them any way I could, until they were driven out or I was killed.’
Again, Anna stared at her grandmother in shock, finding it hard to reconcile the courage and determination of the younger Eleni with the frail old woman sitting in front of her. ‘Were you not afraid, Yiayia?’
‘I was. Only a fool would not be. But I knew I had to do what I could to put an end to the evil that had come to Lefkas. It was the same for many of us. In more peaceful times we would not have believed ourselves capable of standing up to tyranny at the risk of our own lives, or capable of doing what we did later on. War changes a person’s heart, Anna, my dear. It changes a person. Sometimes so much it is hard to recognise them any more.’
She let the weight of her words sink into her granddaughter’s mind before she continued. ‘The execution hardened the hearts of those who had decided to resist and in the weeks and months that followed the andartes grew in number and they became more bold. More patrols were ambushed, more soldiers killed. They tried to set their own traps for us but the local people nearly always found a way to warn our fighters of the danger and only a few islanders were ever lost that way. It was at this time that the first British arrived on Lefkas. They had been sent from Cairo to assess the situation on the island and see what could be done to help the resistance.’
‘How did they get to Lefkas?’ asked Anna.
Eleni drained the dregs of her coffee and winced when she discovered that it had gone cold.
‘By submarine. Not the Papanikolis, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Eleni smiled knowingly. ‘That would be a little too much coincidence. Ha. No, it was a British submarine. They landed their agents by night in one of the bays on the south of the island. There were two of them. An officer and a radio operator. The officer spoke Greek with a terrible accent and the radioman spoke no Greek at all. Since no one was expecting them they were taking a terrible risk. Luckily they ran into a shepherd before they stumbled into any Italian patrols and he was able to guide them to his shelter in the hills before going to fetch the leader of the local band of andartes. At first our man was suspicious of the new arrivals.’
‘Why?’
‘It was possible that they might not be who they said they were. They might have been German agents for all we knew, trying to infiltrate the resistance. So they were blindfolded and taken to a cave in the mountains while their story was checked out. That’s where Andreas’s father comes back into my story. Katarides could speak some English and he was brought to the cave to interview them. I was visiting his house at the time so I went with him. He was convinced that they were who they claimed to be. Even so, the leader of the band, an olive grower named Michaelis, demanded more proof. He had one of his men dress in an Italian uniform that had been taken from a soldier that had been killed in an ambush. The man was brought into the cave and thrown down in front of the British. Then Michaelis put a pistol in the hand of the officer and told him to shoot th
e prisoner. He said if the officer was who he said he was then he would prove it beyond doubt by executing his enemy.’
Anna was shocked. ‘What did he do?’
‘He refused. The British officer made to hand the gun back but Michaelis told him that if he did not shoot the Italian, Michaelis would shoot him, then his radio operator, and then the prisoner. Again the officer refused and said something that made no sense to us.’ Eleni paused and smiled at Anna. ‘The officer said that it would not be cricket to shoot an unarmed prisoner in cold blood. He tried to explain himself and Michaelis burst into laughter and pointed the gun at the prisoner and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He had loaded it with blanks. He embraced the officer and told him that he must be who he said he was. A German spy would have shot the prisoner without hesitation. The officer laughed in relief and everyone else joined in. After that we all sat around a small fire and shared bread, cheese and raki while the officer explained his mission.’
‘What was his name?’ Anna interrupted. ‘Did you find out?’
‘I was getting to that,’ Eleni responded with a trace of irritation in her tone. ‘He was Lieutenant Julian Carson. I discovered that later. At the time he told us to call him Manoli.’
Anna frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘My child, we were playing a very dangerous game. We all adopted false names which we used from time to time. We had to protect ourselves from being identified by the enemy however we could.’
‘Then what were you called, Yiayia?’
‘Me? I was Malia. That was what I was called the moment I left my home and family and worked for the resistance. So that is how I was known to Julian when we first met.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Anna frowned and then her eyes widened. ‘Julian Carson? My grandfather?’
Eleni nodded. ‘Of course.’
Anna shook her head and could not help smiling. ‘I had no idea that’s how you met him . . .’
‘Why would you? This is the first time we have talked about this in any detail.’
‘I just wish I had know some of this before.’
Eleni bowed her head apologetically. ‘Anna, you must understand, this is all a bit painful for me. Remembering those days opens deep wounds in my heart . . .’
Anna stared at her in concern. ‘Would you rather we stopped?’
‘No. Not now. I have begun my story and will finish it.’
‘You don’t have to, Yiayia,’ Anna said gently.
Eleni leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘It will not kill me to continue. Don’t worry. Now, where was I?’
‘You were telling me about my grandfather.’
‘Julian, yes.’ Eleni settled back in her chair. ‘To tell the truth, I did not care for him at first. He did not seem to take things seriously. He seemed to treat our situation as some kind of sport. His superiors in Cairo had sent him to Lefkas to see if there was any organised resistance and find out what we needed to help us in our fight against the Italians. Then report back. He talked to Michaelis and the other leaders who came to the cave. Michaelis told him how many Italians were on the island, and what kind of weapons they had and where their main forces were stationed. Once Julian had collected all the information he needed, he signalled Cairo that he was ready to return and the submarine came back for him. They picked him up from the same beach he landed on. The radio operator remained with us, and Katarides had to translate for him and try to teach him some Greek.’
‘I don’t understand. Why was he left behind?’
‘To train some of the local people how to use the radio equipment and also to keep open a line of communication between the resistance and our British allies in Cairo. It was a lifeline to the outside world. Sometimes the operator, Markos we called him, was able to pick up news and Katarides would listen and tell us what the allies were saying about the progress of the war. At the time we believed them as much as we disbelieved our enemies. Whatever the truth was, we just wanted to believe the opposite of what the fascists were telling us . . . When you are being force-fed, the food you choose to eat always tastes best.’
She looked out of the window for a moment, squinting into the bright daylight. Anna thought about the picture her grandmother had painted of the Italian occupation, and the implication that worse was to follow when she described the German occupation of Lefkas. Eleni seemed lost in thought; her eyes grew used to the glare of the clear sky and her face relaxed. Anna fancied she saw the glint of a tear, but then the old lady hurriedly dabbed her eye and turned back towards Anna and smiled self-consciously. ‘Sorry, I forget sometimes how it was.’
Anna stroked the back of her hands affectionately. ‘Like I said, we can stop if you like. Or change the subject. I mean it.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ she replied huskily and then coughed to clear her throat. ‘I’m fine now. What was I saying?’
‘You said that Grandfather returned to Cairo. What happened then? Did the resistance get the weapons and equipment they needed?’
Eleni nodded. ‘Yes. It was a month or so later. The submarine came back with a different officer and several cases of guns and ammunition and picked up Markos at the same time. There were also spare batteries for the radio and a charging machine, and even some mines and grenades. The new officer was much more serious. He had been sent to train the andartes and show us how to use the explosives. Though he spoke good Greek he did not respect us much and Michaelis soon grew to despise him. They argued frequently about the best way to fight the enemy and then, one day, it came to a head.
‘Michaelis had set an ambush a short distance from Vafkeri. The British officer had set mines along the edge of the road where the Italians would race for cover once the first shots had been fired. But one of our fighters, not much more than a boy really, panicked and opened fire too soon, before the enemy even reached the mines. There was a short exchange of fire. A few of the enemy were shot down and one of our own men. The officer set the mines off to cover our retreat and the andartes hurried back to their cave. I was there and saw what happened next. The British officer was furious, he shouted insults and hit the boy, again and again, before Michaelis pulled him away. When the officer went to hit the boy again Michaelis drew his gun and shot him in the leg. He told the officer that if he opened his mouth again then he’d shoot him in the head.’
Anna swallowed. ‘And did he shoot him? Did he kill him?’
‘No. The man had finally come to his senses and kept his mouth shut. Katarides and I did the best we could to treat his wound and a message was sent to Cairo saying that he had been wounded and needed to be picked up. We got rid of him a few nights later.’
‘Did he live?’
‘I don’t know. I never heard of him again. At least it showed the British that we would not just roll over and do what they told us to. After he was evacuated they obviously decided they needed to find someone else to help us. Someone who understood the people of Lefkas . . .’
Chapter Eighteen
Cairo, April 1942
The noises of the street carried through the high windows of the anteroom where Andreas sat alone on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs lining the wall. Above, an electric fan spun round on a low setting, barely stirring the air enough to offer him any comfort in the late morning heat which lay over the city like a stifling blanket. The walls were whitewashed and slightly stained where cupboards had once lined the room. The floor was wooden and smelled pleasantly of polish, a welcome hygienic odour after the pungent sour smell of the streets he had walked through to reach the former offices of the Oriental Wares Trading Company. The sign still hung outside the modest entrance, but the company had long since moved to Port Said. An Egyptian doorman stood outside in his galabeya, just as if the company was still in residence, but as soon as Andreas had entered the building it was clear that a very different kind of enterprise was being run from the premises.
A thickset man in khaki shorts and shirt was seated behind a desk in the e
ntrance hall. He checked Andreas’s name against a list and guided him up the stairs to the anteroom. On one side of the building was a busy street, thronged by traders, hawkers and off-duty servicemen seeking the sultry delights offered by the souks and the less salubrious bars and clubs the great city had to offer. The other side fronted on to the Nile, offering fine views of the steamers and feluccas that carried goods up and down the river.
Andreas wore a simple cotton suit over an open shirt. His naval uniform was back in his room at the Continental Hotel where it had hung for over two weeks since his arrival in Cairo. He had been summoned to the city on the orders of the Greek government in exile and simply been told to wait for instructions to be delivered to the hotel. He had spent the first few days enjoying the comforts of The Continental. The bar was popular and there were always plenty of British officers with whom to practise his basic grasp of the language. One in particular had taken Andreas under his wing and introduced him to the best restaurants and clubs of Cairo. Although Patrick Leigh Fermor, or Paddy as he had insisted on being called, had only just arrived in the city, his easy charm and good looks had already won him an opening in Cairo’s glittering social world. There was also a pool and Turkish bath to delight those staying at the hotel after spending months campaigning in the baking desert.
For Andreas, it was a welcome relief from the fervid atmosphere of Alexandria where the Papanikolis had been berthed ever since escaping from Sivota Bay. Her propeller had long since been repaired, but the only voyages she had undertaken since then had been to deliver agents and weapons to the resistance fighters in Crete. Andreas had missed the first mission while recovering from his broken collar bone and the infection that had set in during the submarine’s transit to the safety of Alexandria. Since then he had begun to resign himself to the boredom of living ashore in the cramped quarters assigned to the remnants of the Royal Hellenic Navy. Until he had been summoned to Cairo.
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