Shortly after the men returned, Gina’s messenger arrived and said the commandant would be there in the morning. Until then the Americans would have to wait. The partisans had already brought those in the village with ailments to see the nurses, but there wasn’t much the nurses could do for them. A group of female partisans who carried guns and hand grenades had also come to see the nurses and insisted on singing partisan songs. To the Americans’ growing concern, word of their arrival was spreading.
To pass the time while they waited for the commandant, Jens started writing a brief diary using the white space in an English–Italian dictionary she had brought in her musette bag. Others anxiously smoked, talked, or watched the villagers come and go from the second-story porch and hoped for good news.
Thrasher and a few of the men traveled back to the plane that evening, but Hayes thought it was safer to stay with the other medics and nurses in the village rather than going out at night in unfamiliar territory. Having eaten only a few pieces of cornbread that evening, he was hungry and thinking about food. Though he had the K rations from the plane, he wouldn’t allow himself to use them. As the hours passed by slowly, he busied himself using his share of the shroud lines from the parachute to extend the straps on his musette bag so he could wear it as a backpack and tied the first-aid kit to one of the loops on his belt. He then packed the K rations into his now empty medical bag and tucked the bag under his head to keep anyone from getting into it.
When the men returned that evening around eleven, Thrasher proudly announced to the group that they had finally set the plane ablaze. They had once again opened the valve under the wing and let gasoline flow onto the ground before throwing a lit torch into the liquid. This time it had worked. If the Germans found the C-53D now, they wouldn’t be able to salvage much, if anything.
Gina’s commandant, a man named Kahreman Ylli, rode up to the village midmorning on a shiny black horse as the Americans, tired from another uncomfortable night’s sleep on the hard wooden floor in the small room, watched from the porch. Half a dozen men on foot followed on either side of the commandant, and everything from the black cape he wore to the way the partisans seemed to revere him indicated that he was in charge.
Thrasher and Baggs went outside to greet him. Gina, as the only English-speaking Albanian present, interpreted for the commandant, who immediately wanted to know why the Americans were in Albania. Baggs explained they had crash-landed and asked if the commandant could help them get back to Italy. The commandant pulled Gina off to the side to talk privately. When they came back, Gina tried to explain that the commandant was considering two options, though the pilots had trouble deciphering some of Gina’s English. Baggs’s interpretation was that the partisans could take them to a British pilot who had parachuted out of a plane and was hiding in the hills, or they could take them to Berat, which was a two-day walk. Berat was now under partisan control, and the commandant thought they would find additional help there in getting the Americans to the coast.
While the commandant mulled over his decision, he announced they should have a feast. It was welcome news to the Americans, who were famished. But before they could get too excited, Gina added that a water buffalo or an ox that would be killed for the celebration had to feed the entire village for several days. What had been called a feast would amount to a few bites of meat for each person with cornbread and onions on the side. The Americans were still grateful for the food, however, and Rutkowski gave the partisans a watch to thank them.
Three men pushed and pulled the struggling animal into the yard in front of the building, tied it to a tree, and used a large knife to slit its throat. It took numerous attempts before it died, and to many of the Americans, including Jens and Hayes, the way the men killed it seemed needlessly cruel. Moments after it was slaughtered, the men suspended its carcass from a tree branch and began to dress it. Wolf, an avid hunter from Wisconsin, jumped in to help them using a hunting knife he carried in a leather sheath on his belt.
While they waited for the meat to cook, the commandant announced his decision through Gina. The partisans would leave for Berat early the next morning. The Americans could only hope that they would find someone there who would lead them to the coast.
It was a mild fall day as Gina and his men, loaded down with an assortment of weapons they kept at the ready, led the party of Americans from the village through thick woods blazing with autumn colors. Baggs carried the machine gun while Shumway rode a white horse Gina had proudly offered him that morning. Shumway’s pain was mostly limited to his leg by then, and while the nurses’ fears of Shumway having internal injuries had passed, they didn’t want him walking. Watson’s injuries were starting to heal, though her loosened teeth still bothered her.
The peaceful beauty of the forest belied its hidden dangers, and the Americans remained watchful. Those who had been friends before the crash landing walked together on the path, navigating the rocky terrain and taking comfort in the familiar faces around them. Since the theft of their razors, the men’s beards were beginning to grow along with their suspicions, and they all longed for showers and a meal, but they were glad to be moving. Sitting around waiting had only given them more time to think about what could happen.
By noon they had arrived in another one-building village where the residents were expecting them. Gina had sent a messenger ahead to arrange for the Albanians to share what little food they had. After a brief conference between Gina and the leaders of the village, the party sat down in front of a long table and ate as the villagers stole curious glances at the uniformed Americans. When someone asked Gina what it was they were eating, he told them, “Never mind. Just eat it.”
It wasn’t luck that the villagers were once again so generous. It was Besa, an ancient Albanian code of honor, which dictated that Albanians help all those in need despite the risks to themselves. Though the Americans weren’t aware of this code, it would help save their lives and those of nearly two thousand Jews, mostly from other European countries, sheltered in Albania during the war.
The group’s stay in the village was brief, as Gina and his men were anxious to make more progress before darkness arrived, but the food helped give them the energy they needed to keep going. They plodded along the trail, with those needing to relieve themselves stepping off the path momentarily and then catching up with the others.
They soon approached a churning river about a hundred feet wide and several feet deep. When Hayes saw it, he immediately thought of refilling his canteen, but his hopes disappeared when he saw that the water was too muddy. For the past few days, they’d been drinking water from their canteens, last filled in Catania, and now they were running low. They needed to find more water soon.
As they approached the shore of the river, the Americans noticed two Albanian men waiting with a few mules, a meeting Gina had arranged ahead of time to help the party get across. It was slow going as the mules ferried a few women and men over at a time, with the exceptions of Shumway, who rode his horse, and the partisans, who waded across on their own. Though the process took valuable time, the Americans appreciated the help. Other than a few bites of cornbread, sour cheese, and meat, they’d had nothing since the morning of the flight three days earlier; none of them had slept well, and they were covering a lot of ground. With the mules continuing on the journey with them, a few of the Americans hitched rides.
As daylight faded, Gina and his men led them to a small village of stone houses with stone roof tiles, possibly Poshnje. The male leaders of the village who made up the village council came out to greet them, with the same curious looks the Americans had received earlier in the day. Gina spoke with them and asked permission to stay the night. It wasn’t a small request. If the Germans caught the Albanians hiding the Americans, they could be killed. At the very least, the village would be burned, but in all likelihood, the retaliation would be much more brutal. The Americans’ stay would also deplete the village’s small stores of food and would likely m
ean that some in the village wouldn’t eat that night. Despite the risk and the sacrifice, the village council agreed, and the Americans were divided into three groups with men and women in each.
Owen, Hayes, and Abbott were assigned to the same house along with a few of the nurses, including Rutkowski. Whenever possible, Hayes, Owen, Wolf, and Abbott stuck together as they had during training at Bowman Field, but Gina had become their de facto leader, and he decided how the groups were divided. The two Albanian men who hosted them were friendly and tried to make conversation, but it was nearly impossible for either the Americans or the Albanians to understand one another without Gina there to help translate.
Their hosts served a meal on a round table that stood just inches off the floor, and after a course of cornbread and raw onions, they brought the Americans a bowl of some kind of sweet soup that they put in the center of the table along with a single spoon. Unsure what they were supposed to do, the Americans stared at the soup for a moment until Rutkowski filled the spoon, sipped it, and passed it on to the next person. They liked it so much and were still so hungry that their hosts refilled the bowl several times, and Abbott tried unsuccessfully to learn the name of it so they could ask for it again. When dinner was over, their hosts, who had no bedding to offer, moved the table so the men and women could sleep on the floor next to a smoldering fire.
With Shumway still on horseback and the mules in tow, Gina led the party through the woods the next day as they slowly made their way toward Berat. None of the Americans had been offered anything to eat that morning, and what they’d had the night before dominated the conversation that morning as their hunger took over their thoughts. One group had been served a similar meal to that of the others, but the third group described a dish with some kind of meat that made the others envious. Watson kept thinking of the cake her mother would be having that day to celebrate her fifty-first birthday while unaware that her only daughter was stranded in enemy territory.
They finally stumbled upon a nearby stream. The water looked clear enough to drink, and they thought they were far enough away from a village that it would be relatively free of contaminants. The nurses and medics filled their canteens, relieved to at least have a supply of water with them. For added protection they sterilized the water using a few drops of iodine from glass ampoules in their medical kits.
The hours passed, and they continued on while some of the partisans traveling with them seemed to come and go as Gina sent them off to scout areas or relay messages. In the early afternoon, one of the men came running back to the group. While he tried to catch his breath, he told Gina that a German patrol was in the area. Though the Germans tended to stay near the roads where they could protect their communications, they sometimes ventured into the hills and mountains, particularly when they wanted to exact revenge for attacks on their troops. When partisans had attacked a German convoy in July before the German invasion, the Germans had retaliated by killing 107 civilians in the town of Borovë near the Greek border and burning down the village with flamethrowers. Most victims were women, children, and the elderly. The youngest was just four months old.
Gina warned the Americans to be as quiet as possible as they continued on the trail. They listened for any sound or movement as they walked for the next half hour or so until they reached the edge of the woods. As they neared an exposed hillside, they heard an explosion of five or six rounds of gunfire. It seemed to have come from the right side of the hill ahead, and the shells had landed somewhere far in front of them to their left. They listened for more shooting, but all they heard was silence. After waiting several minutes, they had no choice but to cross the hillside so they could continue on the trail. After a few of the partisans led the way, Gina decided it was safest to send one American across at a time. When Hayes’s turn came, he walked past Gina, who said to him, “I am the commandant, yes?” Hayes wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, but he agreed and kept moving. As Hayes ran across the field, he could hear his canteen rattling against the cup on his belt. It seemed like the loudest noise he’d ever heard. He grabbed the canteen cover to keep it from shaking and finished his dash. When he got to the other side, he was certain everyone had heard it, but no one had noticed.
With everyone safely across, they continued on their way, but Hayes’s curiosity about Gina’s role as leader of the band of partisans nagged at him. He caught up with Gina and asked him how he had been chosen to lead. Gina explained matter-of-factly that he had won the title by killing the most Germans. If someone else were to kill more, he would be replaced. It was another reminder of the brutal and chaotic world the Americans had unwittingly entered.
Following the path of a stream, they reached the edge of another village, where they watched a miller grinding cornmeal with a water-powered millstone in a small building. They continued on, passing an open-air building where a blacksmith pounded on a piece of iron and his apprentice used bellows to pump air into a fire. As the sun was beginning to set, they found the village council, who spoke with Gina and agreed to let the Americans stay the night. Gina once again separated the Americans into groups and assigned them to various homes—a protocol they would follow at every village they came to in the coming weeks.
Food and firewood were scarce that night. Nurse Kopsco, Hayes, and another medic, in fact, had none of either as they shivered in a room above a stable, but they had a roof over their heads, which helped protect them as the temperature plummeted. Winter weather was quickly approaching, and the men and women knew they didn’t have what they would need to survive it.
As the Americans regrouped early the next morning, Gina announced they would arrive in Berat by the afternoon. After five days in Albania, the Americans were desperate to reach the town, and the news cheered them. By now they figured the AAF knew they were missing and were looking for them; but few, if any, had hopes they would be found, given that they had crashed so far off their intended course. They had to get themselves home, and they still thought their best chance was to locate someone in Berat who would take them to the coast. With any luck, they would be back before the AAF sent telegrams to inform their families they were missing.
As they made their way down a hill later that morning, horse and mules in tow, they came upon a wide valley stretching before them for three or four miles. Gina told them Berat was beyond the valley and west of the mountains surrounding it. To get there, first they would have to cross the valley, which would require them to pass the far end of a runway on a German airfield in the middle of the grassy expanse. He’d already sent partisans ahead, and they’d had no trouble. Despite some of the Americans’ apprehension about his plan, they had no other options, and they were fiercely determined to get to Berat and, ultimately, home.
Just as they approached the edge of the valley, six B-25s heading east flew over them and disappeared behind mountains. Transfixed by the unexpected appearance of American planes, the group came to a standstill. Moments later, they heard what sounded like bombs exploding and saw a large column of black smoke rise into the air. Though the Americans didn’t know it at the time, the planes had just bombed an Albanian oil refinery prized by the Wehrmacht. Three German Messerschmitt Bf109s scrambled on the airfield in response to the American planes, and Gina nudged the elated and distracted Americans to keep moving. With the planes in the air, now was the time to skirt the airfield.
As they approached, they passed a wire fence about four feet high near the end of the runway. Suddenly, roughly a dozen P-38 American fighter planes flew over them following the path of the other planes. At the sight of the P-38s, the German fighter planes unexpectedly turned back to the field and came in to land. Fearing that the German pilots might spot them, the Americans took cover as their training dictated. To the relief of the group, the pilots were too focused on their landings to notice some of the Americans and partisans lying facedown in a ditch about ten feet from the fence, or nurses Jens and Porter hiding under a small tree. The sight of the Ame
rican planes reminded Jens of home and made her more determined than ever to get back.
Fortunately for the party, the Americans and partisans didn’t stay down for too long before moving on to Berat. After bombing the refinery, an attack that killed some two hundred and eighty people, including those hit by partisan snipers in the hills, the P-38s came back and attacked the field, showering it with fragmentation bombs. The Americans had once again narrowly escaped catastrophe.
CHAPTER 6
Under Attack
Early that afternoon, the Americans followed Gina down the main street of Berat, a town of about 10,000 flanked by the Osum River on one side and a terraced hill of white homes with large windows and red-tiled roofs on the other. Overlooking it all loomed a thirteenth-century castle. One of the country’s oldest settlements, Berat dated to between 2600 and 1800 B.C. and was long occupied by merchants and craftsman. Its strategic location along trade and military routes during the Ottoman Empire had made it an important town, and many of the buildings from that period were still well preserved.
Hundreds of people cheered, sang, and waved as the large group, including Shumway sitting astride his horse and a few medics and nurses riding mules, passed by. Some threw flowers and saluted the party, while at least one man snapped pictures. Confused by the unexpected and passionate welcome, some of the Americans basked in the attention. One medic even returned a salute. Others, however, worried that if this many people knew they were in Albania, the Germans were sure to find out, as well—if they didn’t already know.
The Americans soon learned the reason for the enthusiasm. Gina had sent a messenger ahead to alert the town that the Americans were coming, and the townspeople thought they were the first of a long-awaited Allied invasion force sent to liberate them from the Germans. Seeing the nurses hadn’t dissuaded them from the idea, since they were used to female partisans fighting side by side with men. For the Americans who were counting on finding their own liberators in Berat, it was deeply unsettling to realize that these people were looking to them for help.
The Secret Rescue Page 7