Orthokostá

by Thanassis Valtinos

  Chapter 26

  Márkos came down to Kastrí in 1943. Just after Saint Constantine’s Day.1 He was older than me but we were both named after the same grandfather. He was trying to put together a group. To start up a skeleton organization. The first of the British had parachuted onto Mount Parnon. The first group of the SMA. And he left to meet them. Of course he never came back. It should be noted here that he was always on good terms with the leftists. During the Metaxás dictatorship he was in contact with them. First of all, he hid someone named Látsis in his house. From Ayios Vasíleios in Kynouría. Later on he made him his koumbáros. He had connections to the Communist Party from way back then. He was also working with Polývios Isariótis. That’s not a code name. Polývios Isariótis, a lawyer. They shared the same office. He was a Communist too. Márkos left the army in 1935. He wasn’t discharged. He resigned. As a first lieutenant, I think. He graduated from the Army Cadet Academy, he studied, he got a degree in law, he got his license to practice law, then he quit. He brought his brothers and sisters to Athens, he set up house there, he started working. He put the girls in school, his sisters, in some vocational school. 1930–1935. Until that time most everybody else stayed in Kastrí. He struggled. He had a sharp mind, he soaked up everything. He spoke good English, good French. He had also reestablished his connection with the Freemasons, and he was rising. Rising fast. An important and prominent person. Extremely cultivated. Níkos Karvoúnis wrote the battle hymn “To Arms, to Arms” at his house. Níkos Karvoúnis, the leftist writer. Márkos gave him shelter during the early years of the Occupation. He looked after him. He wrote that at Márkos’s house, and Márkos’s brother Yiórgos Ioannítzis typed it for him. I have firsthand knowledge of this. And also Polývios Isariótis, when he came down to Arcadia to organize EAM, he sent him to me. He stayed at our house, I helped him make his first contacts. In fact he was the first one from EAM to come to Kastrí. He must have come in November. Early November 1941. EAM was formed in September. It was founded in September in Athens. And the cadres of the KKE who joined up straight away were spread over the rest of Greece. Each of them took a prefecture. Polývios came to Arcadia. We got to know each other. I knew him from Márkos’s office. I was a student. He was a short, athletic type. So he came there, he set up his organization, in 1941. The Organization became dormant then but was reactivated in 1943. When the air drops began on Mount Parnon. The first drop took place on May 21, in Megáli Lákka. That’s where it happened. Then Márkos came down from Athens. He invited some people for a meal at Haloúlos’s taverna. That was his fatal weakness. It sealed his fate. All the EAM activists were there, Magoúlis, Kléarhos, and the rest. As Márkos’s guests. He announced that he was going forward, he would form his own cell. A few days later he got up and left. He stayed at our uncle the doctor’s. At Uncle Menélaos’s house. He went up to Mount Parnon. The third, the fourth, or fifth of July 1943. Until recently I didn’t know the circumstances under which he was killed. This past year someone put out a book. One of those self-published books. Stámos Triantafýllis. He portrays himself as a rebel chieftain. A Reserve second lieutenant during the Albanian campaign. The Old Man of Mount Parnon and all that. About himself. And he says that it was Látsis who killed Ioannítzis. Before he met up with the British agents of SMA he met with Látsis. He tried to convince him to leave EAM, to go over to his organization. This discussion took place on the road. From Platanáki to Palaiohóri. Both of them on horseback. Then Látsis took out his gun and shot him in cold blood, from behind. The rebels escorting them were speechless. In the back of his neck. Why did you stop? Látsis yelled at them. And they left, they left Márkos down there. How dependable Triantafýllis’s information is I don’t know. At any rate, he was there on Mount Parnon. He doesn’t say, I saw it. Some eyewitnesses told this to him. I was in Kastrí at the time. And I’d gone to Voúrvoura with Nikólas Farmakoulídas. I don’t remember why anymore. On some related business in any case. In the meantime the dispute with EAM was coming to a head. Those bums, Yiánnis Velissáris would say. He’d started out with the opposition. Then he went over to their cell. I knew them all, I was well acquainted with everyone. Aléxis Iatrídis’s boys. Old Aléxis. His nephews. My brother Níkos. They also had their friends. Spýros Roúmelis. All of them casualties. Roúmelis, that was his nickname. Selímos. A scrupulous fellow. Roúmelis was his mother’s name. After the village of Ayía Roúmeli. Which is in Crete. He had no relatives. Just a sister, she’s still living. Someone from Vérvaina married her. Those people had been through a lot. And it showed on their faces. They suffered. And his sister still does, even today. There was another man there. Yiórgos Stratigópoulos. He was studying law. I was good friends with him too. He wrote poems. He came from Kastrí, on his mother’s side. And Tzímis Boínis also. Another casualty. Killed. So the rebels set up a blockade. I don’t remember the date. They arrested me and Farmakoulídas. In our beds. The others were hiding. They took us to Meligoú. We spent the night there. They left Farmakoulídas there in Meligoú. Seems like the officers were seeing a lot of action. Kyreléis, Dránias, a Reserve officer, Yiánnis Kounoúfos from Karátoula, a squadron chief. From our organization. Me, they kept. Because as a student I was a leftist and because I had no clear involvement in it all. They kept me. And I went up to the mountains. With them. They put me in charge of the Justice sector. I already had my law degree. I was also a good public speaker. I was in my element. I stayed there until November 1943. Working for the committee of EAM of East Laconía and Kynouría. With headquarters in Leonídio. We had the whole area. Up to Yeráki. The secretary was Kóstas Pappás. A code name. For Yiánnis Kouráfas, a Triatatikós.2 In August I asked to go back to Kastrí. On August 15, the Feast of the Virgin. They let me go. I went, I stayed four days, I came back. On my return they immediately placed me under arrest. An accusation was made that I was with the Gestapo. In the mountains that meant you were executed. I wasn’t an agent of the British Intelligence Service, I was with the Gestapo. They placed me under arrest. In Leonídio. Manólis Roúgas was there, working with EPON.3 My brother Níkos was there. And in Trípolis the secretary of the KKE was Yiórghis Mavromantilás. Mihális’s brother. They were from Górtyna, but Mihális had married one of our women. Married into Kastrí. And Yiórghis and I were in school together. I gave Níkos and Manólis a note, to go and find the secretary. To find Yiórghis Mavromantilás. They found him. And he sent a message, I assume, and he vouched for me. So they sent me on a test mission. I went, I came back. The mission was to deliver a highly confidential envelope to the village of Platanáki. Which of course had nothing in it. To check whether I would open it or not. And after that I was escorted by someone known only as Triantáfyllos around the mountain villages to speak to the residents. I was the orator for the whole region. We went to Prastós, we called a monk. He was a KKE supporter. Who is the greater prophet, Christ or Stalin? Christ, who’s he? he answered. Why Stalin is. We went down to Leonídio. I started having my doubts down there. Things can’t go on like this. I also recognized Márkos’s knapsack. A small detachment had arrived in Leonídio. We were eating. They were going to ferry across to Iria in Náfplion in a caïque. They would get to Spétses and from Spétses they would go across. It was there I became convinced that they had killed Márkos Ioannítzis. From the stories told to us by a certain Kapetán Zahariás. He’d go on and on. But there was no mistaking it, I saw Márkos’s knapsack. The knapsack he took up to Mount Parnon with him. I gave it to him that morning. Just before he left from our uncle the doctor’s house. We had slept there. I recognized it. I say to myself, Now what can that mean? He’s finished. So Zahariás went on with his story: And that fellow Karátoulas came along with his knapsack, and so on and so forth. And a rebel said to him. Another version of his murder. What are you carrying that for? And he executed him. Karátoulas was Márkos’s code name. Márkos was a protector to all of us in some way. I was overcome by a fiercely intense melancholy. I couldn’t live with the idea that I wa
s involved if only indirectly in the murder of my cousin. Kóstas Pappás saw me like that. He took me aside. Because I was a trustworthy associate I had won his friendship. Comrade, what’s wrong? I want to go see a doctor. My appendix is bothering me. I need to have an operation. He tells me, I’ll let you leave. But you can’t come back. You can’t come back. I left whatever I had there. We went down to Pláka. A seaport of Leonídio. He put me in a boat himself to get me to Astros. I thought, They’ll sink me. At dawn we made it to Astros. With oars—and with sails when there was wind. In Astros I run into Velissáris, right there in front of me. Hey, Yiánnis. He had come down to Astros too. Yiánnis and I were colleagues. He was still practicing law, in fact. What are you doing here? I’m on leave, I tell him. I’m going up to the village. Some things are destined to be. We’ll go together, he says to me. Yiánnis had relatives in Dolianá. We went to Dolianá, a crowd gathered. I spoke. We go to Stólos. To Mítsos Kapetanéas. He was Yiánnis’s uncle. Yiánnis was his sister’s son. We went there, and of course Mítsos put himself out. He got some meat, he got all kinds of things. When it came to entertaining he was a prince among men. In the evening we sat down to eat. He says to me, Márkos, what are you going to do? I say, I’ll leave for Athens. And you, Yiánnis? I can’t go along. Why can’t you, Yiánnis? I haven’t the means. Listen, Mítsos says to him. As long as I’m alive you don’t have to worry about anything. You’ll get on better than anyone. Mítsos not only owned land. He was good at everything. Things came easy to him. Yiánnis didn’t answer. Didn’t say yes or no. We came to Kastrí. I wasn’t afraid he would betray me, that’s how much I trusted him. And I’m talking about November 1943. I go find Yiórghis Haloúlos. The clerk. Things are tough, I tell him. They’re tough, he tells me. What will we do now? What can we do? I tell him, I’m going to Athens. But I need a permit. Uncle Menélaos had already left. We’ll get you one, Yiórghis says. He went down to Trípolis, he found someone from Rízes. He had dealings with the Germans. Black market and all that. My father knew him well. Yiórghis says to him, Márkos, the doctor’s nephew, wants to go to Athens. He came down from the mountains. Let’s go get him with the Germans, he says. Yiórghis laughed. A permit is enough, he tells him. You don’t have to go get him. Kaoúnis was his name, from Rízes. A real chatterbox. So I got ready to leave. I found Níkos Xinós. He was working with his brother Thomás. I knew that a car would be leaving for Athens. Níkos, will you take me with you? I’ll pay you. Me, take money for that, Mr. Márkos, sir, he says to me. We’ll take you anywhere you want. We’ll get the gazogene truck ready. Tsourapélos’s truck. Those boys worked as helpers. They were young, had no parents. We arranged for them to come at dawn to wake me. Early that night, Broúsalis, Delivoriás, and Achilléas show up at our house. The entire leadership of the Arcadia branch of EAM. They had passed through Zygós. I think it was about that time that someone called Háris Nestorídis was sentenced to be executed. As a collaborator with the Italians, up around there. They executed him and they came to Kastrí. With an escort of men from ELAS. All the leaders of EAM. They came to our house, they stayed there at our house. We had rooms, the women made up beds for them. At night we had a meal, we talked. I knew I was leaving in the morning. I didn’t tell them anything. Around daybreak I hear voices at my window. Mr. Márkos, sir. There are Germans in the square. It was the Xinós brothers. Germans on bicycles in the square. I jump up. I wake the others. I wait for them to dress and collect their guns and all their things. I’m the last one to leave. I jumped down into my aunt Omorfoúla’s yard, I put the others ahead of me. The Germans fired some shots behind us. They saw us. They didn’t detain us. And come daybreak we had made our way to Koubíla. We went to Koutsoyiánnis’s inn. There were others gathered there. Meanwhile, we had come by some information. The Germans had blockaded Kastrí. With a detachment of cyclists in the front guard. A silent front guard. To take us by surprise. We arrived in Koubíla. My brother Níkos was with us. Achilléas says to him. Kapetán Achilléas. Achilléas of OPLA. The terrorist. He tells Níkos and another man to leave for Plátanos. There was an ELAS unit there. To attack the Germans. I laughed. How could they attack, with what and with whom? How long would it have taken them to get to Plátanos? It can’t be done, the others tell him. And that heroic decision was quickly forgotten. In the meantime the blockade ended. I went back to Kastrí. The Germans had killed Demosthénis Pantazís and a professor named Panayotópoulos. Not from our parts, from Trípolis I think. There was weeping and wailing of course. Killing was still something unusual in the village. A few days later Níkos Xinós comes and finds me. Mr. Márkos, sir, the gazogene truck is ready. And that’s how I left. I went to Athens and left my troubles behind. At first I stayed at Yiórgos Ioannítzis’s house. At lunchtime I often ate with our uncle the doctor. With Uncle Menélaos in the Metaxourgheío neighborhood in Athens. Then the Germans left. I went to Kifisiá. I couldn’t stay at Yiórghis’s place. We had other relatives in Kifisiá. Romylía and the rest of them. Then they found us a room in Ilisós.4 Just below the Makriyiánni district near the Acropolis. Eléni and I moved in there. I met an old girlfriend of mine there. I’d stayed at their house in Neápolis. As a student. Beautiful girl, like a statue. She was going out with a district attorney at the time. She told me all about him. But she preferred me. She was older than me. I ran into her in Ilisós. Pópi? I say to her. I’m living here with my mother, she tells me. She had a sister. She was living with someone, an old man, he was supporting her. I don’t know if he married her. Pópi was down in the dumps. What’s the matter? I say to her. Come to my house, she tells me. They were running a gambling racket there. Pópi was one of a group of professional mourners. Which meant that KOBA5 would send for her now and then and she would go to the cathedral and writhe and swear and wail. The December Uprising came to an end. The official state was reduced to the Palaiá Anáktora.6 And to Goudí.7 To Goudí and the Makriyiánni district. Kapetán Achilléas was in Athens. Achilléas, the head of OPLA. He blew up all those buildings. He’d come there as a mechanic, and he blew them up. But our most upsetting meeting took place later on. By the end of Christmas the ELAS rebels had pretty much cleared out of Athens. That’s when I went and enlisted. Voluntarily. I still had some time left to serve, from when I was a student. The National Militia was there. It had been agreed at the Liberation to organize certain similar battalions. Manned by Reserve officers, for the most part. I went and enlisted. My thinking was that the sooner I got that obligation over with the better. My thinking was correct. And on top of all that of course there was the problem of survival. The Germans left, the December Uprising came to an end. I had been living off various relatives. So I went and enlisted. I owed that time. But that’s what always happens. Where will you get food, where will you sleep? In the barracks. Wherever they give you food. That was the beginning of the enlistments. On both sides. That was one reason to enlist. And the other was safety. In the mountains no one came after you. You went around, you ate, you drank, you got laid. Otherwise you were a reactionary, and you were hounded. You ended up in the Battalions. You found a place to lay your head. I went and enlisted. It was now 1946. The plebiscite was held in September. Shortly afterward I completed my nine months, and I was discharged. I went down to Trípolis. I stayed with my sisters, they were there, they had opened an atelier. I had my law degree, but I had no license yet. I wasn’t licensed to practice. The Civil War began. That’s when it started. In Litóchoro. And Pontokerasiá. They brought the gendarmes down from Ayios Pétros in their undershorts. They butchered them in their sleep. The revenge killings began. Terrible business. So the KKE could gather its men, all the ones who had run away to Athens, they set up the local guard units. A unit in every prefecture. It was there in the local unit in Arcadia that they captured them all. Velissáris, Kraterós, Broúsalis, Delivoriás. Someone named Dimópoulos. Seventeen or eighteen people. They took them down to Trípolis. A court-martial was held in Trípolis. With Zisiádis as the main witness for the pro
secution. Achilléas Zisiádis. Had he changed sides? Had he sold out? It must have been one or the other. And someone named Bouziánis also. Pávlos Bouziánis. In the same line of work. Achilléas Zisiádis, high-rise building construction in the 1960s. An engineer. Offices in Pangráti, in Kypséli, and on Syngroú Avenue, in Athens. The trial went on for days. I would go and watch. Kouráfas was there. One of the accused. When he saw me he became all flustered. Kóstas Pappás. They executed him. Velissáris was there. Kraterós Aryiríou was there. Mítsos Kapetanéas came to Trípolis. He tells me, let’s get Yiánnis off. How can we get him off? Go and talk to him. One of the military judges, Alfayiánnis, was from Astros. Mítsos knew him, they were related. Mítsos, an avowed old bachelor, had married a cousin of his, late in life. Nelly. She’s still living. No children. He secured me a permit, I went to see Yiánnis. In the basement of the courthouse. Yiánnis, come on, don’t die for nothing. They’re going to kill me, Márkos. During his testimony they asked him if he disapproved and all that. He didn’t even answer. That trial took place in 1948. In the month of February. Delivoriás and Broúsalis got off. Both of them. They agreed to sign. The whole of Arcadia was mobilized. Priests, bishops. A big thing. They had signed renunciations. But other people also signed and they weren’t saved. Diódoros and I would go listen to their defense pleas. And Diódoros would jeer at the ones who signed. In February 1948. Which of them didn’t sign: Kraterós Aryiríou. He shook his head. He didn’t say a word. Yiánnis Velissáris. The same. He wouldn’t talk. Polývios Isariótis. The Iliópoulos brothers. They all refused. Oh yes, and Kóstas Pappás, the Post Office employee, otherwise known as Yiánnis Kouráfas.