Themis had learnt not to react. Since Panos had left, she did not have anyone to express her fears to. It was impossible to know from looking at someone’s face what they believed or which side they were on, and even reaction to rumour or news was not a reliable indication of political allegiance. Only the new girl who had joined the pharmacy to replace Kýrios Dimitriadis’ son seemed to be a like-mind. The son had joined up with the government army to fight the communists and, on her first day, Eleni had muttered something critical under her breath.
The same month that American aid was announced, Themis felt a change in the air. She paused to look at the headlines of Rizospastis at the kiosk one evening. Hundreds of communists had been arrested in Athens and over the next few weeks executions began.
Thanasis was always happy to relay stories of success in eliminating communist bands. He believed what he wanted to believe and read the newspapers that raised morale among the right.
Themis, on the other hand, heard that some soldiers in the government army were poorly trained and that, as well as being undisciplined and underpaid, many of them were deserting. Stories were also circulating that the communist army was increasing in manpower as a result, and the left-wing press implied there could soon be an independent communist state within Greece.
Battles were being fought over cities in the north and Rizospastis printed a map in late July that showed extensive areas under communist control. Themis daydreamed of Panos, victorious, on the front line of every battle. To these she added another dream: of escaping from Athens to join him.
The battles of the civil war were being fought elsewhere, but the hardship spread to Athens just as it did to every other city and village. Food shortages were now as they had been during the occupation and hundreds of thousands had fled the villages, fearful of communist brutality. The lack of food affected everyone, left and right, as did the arrival of these internal refugees on the streets of Athens.
‘None of this misery would be happening if the communists weren’t trying to take over the country!’ Thanasis exclaimed.
Themis quietly tolerated her brother. Sometimes an event took place that put a smile on his crooked face and then she realised that his complaints were preferable to his gloating. The arrest of thousands more communists in July 1947 was a source of great satisfaction to him, and he was positively gleeful when he found out that staff from Rizospastis had been arrested.
‘Soon Panos’ precious communist newspaper won’t be able to print any of its lies,’ Thanasis said with satisfaction.
It was rare now for Thanasis to mention Panos’ name and Themis flinched. His tone of voice reminded her of the hatred that existed between her brothers.
‘It shows who is on the right side of the law,’ continued Thanasis, adamantly. ‘And who is not.’
None of Thanasis’ statements needed a response, but occasionally Themis reacted without thinking.
‘If you make up your own laws, then anyone can be on the wrong side of them,’ she answered back, immediately feeling a pang of regret.
Even within her own house, she was anxious about expressing criticism of the authorities. In the street, there might be people who shared her views but in the apartment she was alone.
On her way to the pharmacy, which remained open despite dwindling stocks, she always took a glance at the newspaper headlines. She knew by now that some kiosk owners were making an extra living out of informing so she was careful to peruse the headlines of both the left- and right-wing press without buying either of them.
The facts encouraged her. In spite of the government’s success with arrests and executions, the communists continued to take towns and villages, and support from their neighbours, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia and Albania, helped them maintain the upper hand.
Thanasis had bragged that everything would change once more American aid arrived and he was right. When it began to flow in, communist grip in many areas began to wane and the government army, with more weaponry and manpower, began to achieve greater success.
In December 1947, the Communist Party established its own Provisional Democratic Government and attacked Konitsa, a city in the north-west, to make it their capital, their own Athens. There were great losses on both sides but, with the help of the government army, the people of the city successfully defended their town.
In Patissia, all three members of the Koralis family followed events ever more closely. To hear of a leftist incarceration or death gave Thanasis huge pleasure, and he was thrilled by the government win and the new law that officially outlawed the Communist Party.
‘Those bandits will get what they deserve,’ he said. He never dignified communist fighters with the name ‘soldiers’ and not once did he express any anxiety over his brother’s safety.
As the left came under increasing pressure, Themis began to feel that she should take an active part in this conflict. Every day it weighed more heavily on her mind that she could no longer be a mere bystander.
There was nothing specific to keep her in Athens. Life in the apartment was tense, with Kyría Koralis constantly trying to placate Thanasis. Themis had concluded that her grandmother must share his right-wing views and found it abhorrent to listen to them both. On top of this, her job was about to finish. A few days earlier, the pharmacist had apologised that he would not be able to pay her at the end of the month. Stocks, as well as customers with enough money to purchase them, had run out.
The final impetus for her was an image in Thanasis’ newspaper. The face of the new King’s wife, Frederika, beamed from the front page. She had been photographed in Konitsa where she had gone to raise morale among government troops. Themis had always shared Panos’ dislike of the monarchy but with Queen Frederika, it was more than that. She was German, the granddaughter of the Kaiser, and her brothers were known to have been in the SS. Many believed her to be a Nazi and now she was openly supporting the soldiers who were hell-bent on destroying the communists.
Sometimes the thought of Fotini still guided Themis. What would her friend have done? Surely she would have fought for justice and democracy?
The photograph taken in Konitsa reminded Themis that the communists needed all the help they could get. As soon as she could, she would join them.
Chapter Twelve
THEMIS HAD TOLD no one that she was losing her job and one day in late January 1948 she left, as usual, early in the morning. She had hurriedly scribbled a note and wedged it under a book by her bed, knowing that her grandmother would not go into her room until later in the day. She took her normal route but, a few hundred metres before the pharmacy, stopped to greet a young woman, a contact of Eleni’s, her former colleague. They linked arms, turned into a sidestreet and strolled along as if they had not a care in the world. Eirini (Themis did not even know her family name) had a network of contacts, and by mid-morning Themis was in a truck taking her out of Athens.
Their ‘story’ for the next few days was quickly explained to Themis. The four girls and a boy were children of the farmer, who was driving, and they were on their way back to the countryside, having brought in produce from their smallholding. The young people quickly introduced themselves and established each other’s ages. It was just about credible for them to be siblings. Katerina, the oldest, was a dramatic redhead. Then came Despina, who had long black hair. Themis was next in age order and Maria was the youngest, only just eighteen. She was even smaller than Themis and very fragile-looking, with light brown wavy hair and very blue eyes. The only boy, Thomas, was their big brother.
Many times along the road to the north they were stopped at checkpoints and, though their story was credible enough, Thomas, the ‘son’, was twice taken from the truck and interrogated. Every policeman and gendarme was determined to make arrests and a single departure from the script could betray them all.
On one occasion Themis found herself scrutinising the face of a young policeman. He reminded her of Thanasis before he was injured: proud and handsome, his moustac
he perfectly clipped and his hair neat from a weekly visit to the barber. A wave of sadness swept over her as she thought of her brother’s shattered leg, his mutilated hand and a face made ugly by bitterness and scars.
Soon the battered vehicle was being waved on and the engine choked into life once again.
‘Don’t stare at them like that,’ grunted Thomas. ‘It takes nothing for them to pick on someone. And with a pretty face like yours, you could be the first to leave our little party.’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Themis.
They drove on for many kilometres before having a short break.
‘How often have you been on this road?’ she asked the ‘farmer’.
‘More times than I can count,’ he answered. ‘And it’s a miracle they don’t notice I have a different family each time!’
Themis smiled.
‘Though I always have a son and four daughters,’ he added, chuckling. ‘So the soldiers feel sorry for me. Who wants four daughters?’
‘Probably nobody, when they’re farming people,’ said Katerina.
‘You’ll all turn into men soon,’ he said more seriously. ‘You’ll have no choice.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Maria innocently.
Thomas enlightened her.
‘Trousers, for a start,’ he said.
‘Trousers,’ repeated Despina. ‘I always wanted to wear trousers.’
Themis listened, excited.
‘And you’ll be taught how to hold a gun.’
Maria was aghast.
‘A gun?’
‘Why do you think you are on this journey?’ asked Thomas with scorn. ‘To play with dolls?’
‘I can do first aid,’ Maria answered helpfully.
The other two girls, Despina and Katerina, were giggling. Unlike Maria, they knew what to expect.
‘There is some need for nurses,’ said Thomas kindly, ‘but the real urgency is for fighters.’
Maria looked crestfallen.
‘It’s not easy up there, Maria. You need to realise that.’
The five young people climbed up into the back of the truck again, and the farmer set off. Conversation continued.
‘Have you been before?’ asked Themis.
‘My brother was there with the government army,’ answered the boy. ‘He changed sides but came back to Athens when he was injured. He told me how tough it is, whatever side you are on. It’s bloody. And brutal.’
All four girls were silent for a while. Maria turned away so that her face could not be seen, but when she glanced round, Themis noticed that her face was streaked with tears.
Thomas told them tales of success and failure by communist bands and the girls listened sometimes with excitement, sometimes with horror. Even for him, the stories were second-hand, but there were many hours to fill on this journey. He made them laugh as well as cry and even taught them some of the comrades’ songs.
Along the journey, the five young people learnt about each other’s lives. All of them had members of family on both left and right.
‘I don’t want Greece to be governed by collaborators,’ said Katerina. ‘That’s why I am on this truck.’
‘I was a teacher but I lost my job because my father was arrested,’ said Despina. ‘The whole family is branded now. No one is even allowed to believe in communist principles under this government.’
Their ‘father’ played his role well at checkpoints. Thomas took over the driving at night, so they only took occasional stops and slept on the move. After a few days they came to communist-held territory.
‘Do you know much about where we are going?’ Themis asked the farmer one night.
‘I’ve never been there,’ he answered cagily. ‘I won’t be taking you right to the end of the journey.’
When they reached the border with Yugoslavia he stopped his truck. Another, bigger vehicle was waiting for them. Six or seven young men were already sitting in the back when Thomas and the girls climbed in.
For many hours it rattled along the rutted roads, stopping once for a puncture to be mended. They had each been handed a flask of water and a slab of bread.
‘How far is it now?’ Themis whispered to Thomas, who was next to her.
‘I heard the driver saying that we should be there before dark.’
One of the other men in the truck joined their conversation.
‘I’ve heard good things about Bulkes,’ he said. ‘We’ll be well trained and they say there’s plenty of food.’
It was not the first time Themis had heard the name. She felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. According to the right, Bulkes was an indoctrination camp, full of Greek children kidnapped by the communists. According to the left, it was a place of hope and equality, where partisans were trained to fight for a better world.
Around six in the evening, they drove through the gates. Themis was wide-eyed. There were rows of accommodation huts and everyone was in uniform. There were children as well as men and women, and most were smiling.
Themis and the other girls were dropped off first and the men continued on their way. After registration, they were each handed a uniform and shown into one of the huts. There were rows of low camp beds, each with little more than a few centimetres between them, and they hurriedly changed clothes and tucked their dresses under their beds.
Themis looked down at the unfamiliar sight of her legs in thick, tobacco-coloured fabric. She had never felt more excited. Trousers. She felt both more naked and more fully clothed than before.
At the door, where the young woman chaperoning them gave them each a felt hat, there was a ragged pile of unpaired boots. They were in all sizes, their laces tangled, some with flapping soles, others with holes in the toe. Themis began to rummage.
‘You’ll be doing a lot of walking,’ said the woman brusquely. ‘So make sure they fit. And don’t take too long. I need to show you round.’
Eventually, with each other’s help, they all found pairs. The leather of the boots that Themis chose was stiff, but at least they would last, she thought. Maria’s were softer, but the laces threadbare.
‘Do you think nurses are given different clothes?’ Maria asked Themis from behind her hand.
‘Let’s just wait and see,’ she answered. ‘We have to do what we’re told for now.’
They followed the young woman, who did not give them her name, on a tour of the camp and she monotonously rattled off information. A section of Bulkes seemed to be a refugee camp, where people who had fled from the government army were allowed to live in safety.
‘In many ways it’s just like an ordinary town,’ said the young woman.
This was clearly true but the facilities were infinitely superior to those that now existed in most of Greece. Themis was impressed.
‘There’s a hospital over there,’ she continued. ‘And we also have an orphanage.’
She lifted the flap of a huge tent in which children were sitting in rows, silently reading.
‘It looks very disciplined,’ said Despina, recalling her own classroom back in Athens.
The young woman did not react to her comment.
‘Some of the books are even printed here,’ she said, continuing the tour. ‘And there is a monthly magazine for the children.’
The four of them were impressed. Maria gasped with excitement when they were shown the theatre.
‘So are there musical evenings? Plays?’
‘Sometimes,’ answered their guide.
They stepped to one side of the unsurfaced road to let a small truck pass. It was loaded up with potatoes.
‘We try to grow our own food,’ she said. ‘Many hectares surrounding Bulkes are under cultivation. And there’s livestock too.’
The young woman then handed something to Katerina.
‘Share it,’ she instructed. It was years since any of them had tasted the bitter-sweetness of chocolate. Within seconds it was gone.
From what Themis could see, this was a place where people liv
ed in safety, and children were fed and educated. She knew that Greece had once been such a country but it was a distant memory.
It was dark now and they followed their guide along the unlit road to a big wooden building. It was time to eat. Each one of its three thousand inhabitants was allocated a number that dictated what time he or she could have a meal, and much else in connection with the daily timetable.
The stew was good.
‘Meat . . .’ said Maria with amazement. ‘It’s actually meat.’
They noisily scraped every last trace of sauce from the enamel bowls and then wiped them clean with warm bread. Themis looked around for Thomas but a sea of new faces stretched into the distance.
‘Everyone looks the same in uniform, don’t they?’ commented Despina.
That night they became even less distinguishable one from the other. One of the captains stood at the flap of their tent with a large pair of scissors.
‘Use these if you wish,’ he barked. ‘They’re sharp.’
Despina took them from him and immediately began to hack off her hair. Within an hour, a great pile of hair, black, brown and gold, lay in a heap.
When Katerina was handed the scissors she passed them straight to Themis.
‘You’re not going to use them?’
‘I can’t,’ answered Katerina. ‘I can’t do it. I could more easily cut off my arm.’
Themis had never seen more dramatic auburn hair and could see why Katerina was reluctant to part with it.
‘You should keep it anyway! It’s the perfect colour for the cause!’ said Despina.
Themis hesitated. She was sentimental about her own reddish-brown plait that had been part of her for as long as she could remember. Nevertheless, before giving herself time to change her mind, she grabbed it with her left hand, hacked it off and threw the skein of hair on to the pile.
Those Who Are Loved Page 17