The Darkest Hour

by Roberta Kagan

  The Italians laughed, and I was brought back from my thoughts about food and murdering the invaders. They must know how much I hate them because I don’t think I’m hiding it very well. One of the soldiers kept looking at me. He had dark curly hair and blue eyes. He couldn’t be that much older than Stavros, who is sixteen. I tried not to look at where Mama had hidden Papa’s gun under the floorboards.

  I didn’t have a chance to retrieve it because I was down by the river, and by the time I ran home, they were already stealing our food and our animals. Don’t the Italians and Germans have food? The country is starving. Severe famine has gripped the nation, and these fools think they should steal what’s left?

  There is so much death; men, women, and children are dying from starvation. Stavros tells me the British are blockading aid coming in from ships. That doesn’t make sense either. What use is to stop the food from reaching Greeks? Don’t they realize we are starving? Don’t they know that the Germans and Italians are not affected? Idiots. Has everyone lost their minds?

  As I watched the Italian soldiers, I didn’t have to wonder how our men beat them in Albania. They are dumb brutes. The previous day we had emptied the cellar. Mama said it was to organize it better. That didn’t make sense to me, since I don’t think cleaning, at this time, was a great idea. The Italians came, and they stole whatever we had. They took some of Papa’s tools as well, and one of them, not much older than Stavros, looked back at me and winked. I wished I could wipe that smile off his ugly face.

  My father prepared for war. We all took food and other items into the fields and into the underground cellars Papa had made long before the war with the Italians started. He knew what was coming and prepared. Papa and the boys prepared the fields and had created underground cellars to house food and other supplies. His father did the same thing before the liberation from the Turks. Papa always said that soldiers should be prepared for battle even during peace. My father was a veteran of the war at Skra in 1918. My uncle Timothy was a doctor, and he served with the British. He died in 1917. My other uncles all served and defended Greece except one—my uncle, Dion. He has a spine made of jelly. He didn’t protect Greece during the Great War, and at the first whiff of trouble against the Italians, Dion’s bravery never materialized. He took his wife and children and left Greece for America. Unfortunately for us, the food we had stored was not enough. We shared our food with our neighbors, and now we had none left. Mama tried to grow onions, leeks, and other things in the garden, but as soon as they were ready, the Italians would steal them.

  Hunger and death were all around me. You can’t keep Greeks down because we rise and fight back. Brave men and women of Greece are joining the Resistance. There has been talk about them in the mountains, but it’s all whispers spoken behind closed doors. I’m going to join them because there is no choice. You resist, or you die. There is no surrender to these maggots. You don’t surrender, you don’t take a backward step. That’s what my hero Laskarina did; she fought.

  There is only one problem with my plan about the Resistance. I don’t know how to reach them. I will find a way to become one of them.

  I had been contemplating these problems for a while. I had been perched on a ledge high up in the barn rather than spending the time down by the river. It’s too dangerous near the water where dead bodies drift past, and there were far too many Italian soldiers nearby. They had set up camp near the river.

  It was too hot to do anything, so I spent my time looking out of the barn window and sketching. I saw one of our neighbors arrive and enter the house. Another ten minutes went past, and I saw yet another of our neighbors also come by. I stopped sketching and paid attention to the road leading to our farm. It was like a dance, but I couldn’t hear the music. I counted ten that hadn’t left and wondered what was going on. The forty days after my father’s death had come and gone, so it wasn’t that. My curiosity got the better of me, and I got down from my ledge and approached the kitchen door. I could barely hear the hushed voices. I was about to burst in when I heard Stavros’ voice. They were talking about the women and children who had escaped from the Germans in Thessaloniki and were escorted into the mountains. Stavros was in the Resistance? How did I not know this? How didn’t I know that my mama was involved?

  I walked into the kitchen, and everyone reacted as if I had set off a bomb. You can’t talk openly about a secret Resistance because it wouldn’t be a secret. Who knows when an Italian or a German pig is around to hear it?

  “Is everything all right, Zoe?”

  Catching my mother, my aunts, a few of my neighbors, and Stavros in a clandestine Resistance meeting was not going to make me feel ‘all right.’ I was annoyed I had been left out.

  “Why wasn’t I included in this Resistance meeting?”

  “Who said it was a Resistance meeting?” Stavros asked and must have thought I was brainless.

  I glared at him, and he had the good grace to look embarrassed. I’m young, but I’m not stupid. My mama was smiling at me. She’s either proud of me for figuring it out or trying to come up with a way to pacify my anger.

  “Close the door, Zoe.”

  I glanced at my mother and did as I was told. When I returned to the group, the maps came back out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We are hiding Jews in the cellar in the northern fields,” my mother said.

  Stavros explained, “We have a family of five that has escaped from Thessaloniki living in the cellar.”

  It wasn’t a problem that appeared to be that difficult that it required so many people. Go over there and bring them out. I looked at the dozen pair of eyes staring back at me in puzzlement.

  “Why are the Jews fleeing Thessaloniki?”

  “The Jews are being rounded up and interned in a camp on the other side of the river. That’s why the Italians are there.”

  There was a camp of Jews near the river? Why would they put the Jews in a camp? This didn’t make any sense to me. I was about to express my doubts when I saw Mama get up and stretch out her hand.

  “Zoe, let’s go inside your room to talk.”

  That was never a good sign. I followed her into my room, and she closed the door and sat down on the bed. She looked at me and sighed. “I want you to do something for me…”

  “I want to be involved. I want to be in the resistance.”

  “Zoe…”

  “I’m old enough. I’m only three years younger than Stavros, and he’s at the table. Why can’t I be?”

  “You are already in the Resistance, my little one.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t mean trying to evade the Italians or throwing rocks at them. I want to be in the Resistance like Laskarina was. I want to fight.”

  “Zoe…”

  “I’m a good shot. Papa taught me, and you know how well I shoot rabbits.”

  “This is different…”

  “Father H says that we must fight, and it’s an eye for an eye…”

  “That’s not what Father Haralambos means about that scripture.”

  “Does it matter what he meant? Papa told me to be like Laskarina, and that’s what I want to do.” I think I said that a little too loudly and angrier than I intended it to be.

  My mother did not appear to be surprised. She looked at me and didn’t say anything for a long moment. She put her arms around me and held on tight.

  “Zoe, your papa and I knew this day would come. I know you can hunt and shoot. I’ve seen you, but what is out there is something far more evil than you realize.”

  “I know it’s evil, Mama. I’ve watched people starve to death. I’ve seen death. It’s all around me.”

  “You have never seen what evil men can really do. Famine is evil, but that is not the worst they can do, and I pray to God every day that you can withstand what comes.”

  “Is that why you cry every night?”

  “I miss your papa and my baby boys every night, and I know you miss them as well…”


  “Isn’t that even more reason for me to fight? You used to tell us about the Spartan children and how they would learn the art of war from an early age. When the time came for them to go into battle, they were ready.”

  “Yes, my darling, I did but…”

  “Am I not a Spartan child? You and Papa were born in Sparta, and I am a Spartan. Maybe that’s why I don’t like Athenians.”

  My mother looked at me for a moment before she burst out laughing. I didn’t intend it to be a joke, but she had taken it that way.

  “Oh, Zoe, you are my fearless little warrior.” She brought me to her and kissed me on the head. “Athenians are not our enemy; the Germans and Italians are.”

  “I know that, but Apostolos got Papa killed…”

  “Apostolos did not get your father killed. That’s not fair on that young man. No more talk about how you hate him or Athenians. Apostolos is a Greek, and we must not turn on our fellow Greeks. All right?”

  “All right.”

  “Now, I want you to go with Stavros to the south field…”

  “I want to go to the north.”

  “Not tonight. The Italians have stolen all our food, and we must find some food to eat. You and Stavros can hunt for our food. Do you want to do that?”

  “What will you be doing back here?”

  Mama shook her head and smiled. “Out of the mouths of babes…”

  I was about to protest that I wasn’t a child when I stared into my mother’s face that radiated love towards me. I smiled instead of complaining because my mother knew what I was going to ask.

  “We are moving the Jews from the northern field and will eventually escort them into the mountains.”

  It dawned on me why my mother was involved in this. No one of the small Resistance cells had maps. No one. Except for my mother, and that map wasn’t on any paper. It was in her head. My mother has a gift. She can remember whatever she sees. Mama is also an artist and can draw a map if they need it. That was why she was a valuable member of the Resistance.

  “We need to give the Jews food before we escort them into the mountains or they will starve.”

  “Well, we can’t save them and then have them die on us.”

  My mother laughed, and this time I smiled because that was a joke, although it wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Where are you going to keep the Jews before we send them into the mountains?”

  “In our cellar downstairs.”

  I nodded and realized that was why we had moved a lot of the things that were stolen by the Italians out in the open. We needed to make room.

  “Promise me you will behave?”

  “I promise to behave.”

  “A promise is a promise?”

  “Well, if someone misbehaves and I have to break that promise, does that count?”

  “You will do what you have to do, but be careful.”

  Well, I wasn’t expecting that! I smiled at my smart mother and gave her a hug. “I promise to behave unless something happens. Can I take Papa’s gun?”

  “No. You can’t fire a gun, or you will attract the attention of the soldiers. That gun belongs with your father, and I want to bury it with him. That’s the gun that saved his life in the Great War.”

  “What use is a gun that is buried in a grave? Papa doesn’t need it. He’s in heaven.”

  I saw Mama’s eyes glisten, and I regretted asking the question. She took some time to compose herself before she looked at me. “You’re right, Zoe. It’s your gun now, but when you go hunting, you must not use it, all right?”

  “I promise.”

  Chapter 5

  It was midnight when we set out to go hunting. Stavros and I were sitting in the front of a covered wagon. I didn’t think the soldiers would be awake at this hour until we passed a patrol. Either they were too lazy or stupid to care about us, and they allowed us to leave without bothering to ask why we were out at midnight. They were going to pay for that stupidity. I smiled and looked back at the soldiers until Stavros tugged my hair.

  “Ow! Why did you do that?” I slapped him back, but it was ineffectual.

  “Don’t be daft, Zoe. Why are you looking back at them? Lucky for us those imbeciles weren’t paying attention to you. Don’t engage with the enemy, not unless you want to kill them.”

  “I wanted to see if they—”

  “No, don’t see, don’t care about them; this is war.”

  “You’re mean.”

  I couldn’t see Stavros’ eyes, but I assumed he was glaring at me. We didn’t say much to each other until we arrived at the outskirts of our fields. This northern field used to belong to my brother Michael. All the boys owned land because Papa wanted us to cultivate our own land to appreciate what we had. I owned the fields next to Athena’s Bluff and the mountain, but I allowed my brother Thieri to build his house on it. I wasn’t about to plant cotton or wheat on a hill. What use is a mountain to me?

  My thoughts were cut short when Stavros hauled me off the wagon like a sack of potatoes, and I fell to the ground. “Hey! Wh—”

  Stavros put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up. I wasn’t going to argue with him because I suspected another hair yank was coming my way. Stavros maneuvered the horse and cart into the trees, and I followed him.

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “There’s a group of soldiers ahead. They haven’t seen us yet, or we would’ve had them come over. If we go straight into the fields, we will go right into an Italian camp. There’s a group of maybe twenty soldiers at the edge of the field.”

  “Well, no, that’s not a good idea.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t like it. Do we have to go down the middle of the field to get to the forest?”

  “Can I look?”

  I was about to head out and look around a tree when Stavros pulled me back hard. I was about to let out an expletive when he put his hand over my mouth again.

  “I told you to stick your hair under a woolen hat. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  “You’re going blind. I am wearing a hat!”

  Stavros cursed under his breath, but I knew what he was saying. He grabbed his own black hat and pulled off the beret I had worn. It appeared that a dark red beret was not the best thing I could have stuck on my head. Stavros tried to hide my curly hair under the woolen cap. I should have warned him that my hair tends to stick up no matter what I do to it. His curses made me rethink the plan of telling him anything.

  “Next time we go out, you are going to paint that hair of yours black, do you understand me?”

  “Well…”

  “I mean it, Zoe. You can be spotted from Athens with that red hair even on a moonless night.” He grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged, which angered me. “Now, be careful. Tell me if we need to go through the field or if we can go around it.”

  I didn’t say a word because what is there to say other than I was going to take my knife and stab his foot if he pulled my hair again? I was still angry when I yanked my arm away from him and approached the end of the clearing.

  Stavros was right— there were about twenty soldiers at the edge of the field. If we made our way down the middle of the area, they would see us. The forest was directly on the other side and away from the soldiers’ line of sight.

  “Zoe, what are we going to do?”

  “Take a gun and shoot the bastards…” Stavros tugged my hair, but this time I was ready. I pulled my knife out of my boot and was about to stab him when he took it off me. “Hey!”

  “Stop playing games, Zoe. Now tell me where we are going to go?”

  “If you tug my hair again, I’m going to tell my mother.”

  That sounded so stupid even I wanted to slap myself. Stavros looked at me for a moment and smiled.

  “I’m sorry I hit you, and I definitely don’t want Aunty Helena to be angry with me. We must be careful. War is not a game, and if we lose, we die.”

  “I know that.”

  “Right,
if you know that, then remember that if we don’t get our work done tonight, the Resistance won’t be doing their job either. Now, what do we do?”

  “We can’t go down the center of the field because the soldiers will spot us. There isn’t enough cover. We have to go around the field to get to the trees and brush. That’s where we can hunt without the Italians finding us.”

  I was surprised when Stavros lifted me off the ground and carried me like a bag of wheat over his shoulder. I was about to complain when I put my hand over my mouth. I heard Stavros’ quiet chuckle in the darkness.

  Chapter 6

  I didn’t remember going around the field to take as long as we did. It didn’t help that Stavros was leading the horse as if he was trying not to kill any ants. It was two in the morning. It was so eerily quiet. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the ground as we slowly made our way. We didn’t speak, and we didn’t meet any other soul on the road.

  We arrived on the outskirts of the forest and led the horse and the cart through the brush. I remember Michael had a small barn to keep farm tools and other equipment. It was near the edge of the fields but out of the line of sight of where the soldiers had been congregated. We made our way towards the barn.

  I had my crossbow that was given to me by my brother, Theodore. He had made it especially for me and it was smaller than the larger ones that my brothers used. I also had Kaliope, my knife, which was a gift from my brother, Michael who had engraved my initials on the blade. My brother Thieri had made a bag for me which could be slung across my back. My leather belt was a gift from my father. I was ready to hunt.

  Stavros guided the horse into a small clearing beside the barn. I jumped down from the cart. I could hear Stavros swearing under his breath that I should have waited. We didn’t have a lot of time to hunt. What did we need to wait for? Dawn would soon be upon us, and the patrols would start.