Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor

by Nick Vellis

  “I think he’s right. I’ve been thinking the same thing. The synagogue is the place to begin,” said Ceres. “I think we may find our answers there. A town’s rabbi is a good source of local history.”

  They drove on in silence for some time. AJ tried to focus his drifting thoughts and started a mental checklist. He broke down the .45, checking it for the hundredth time. It might be old, but it was in perfect condition. He loaded the magazines, then put one in the gun’s well. Then he put the weapon back in his bag.

  “Can we stop someplace up ahead? I want to try out the .45,” AJ said.

  “You aren’t going to shoot me, are you?” Tinos joked.

  “Not if you stop someplace up ahead,” AJ fired back. “I’m just going to kill a few rocks. I want to make sure this thing still works,” AJ replied with a half laugh.

  They passed through a small village, and after about twenty minutes, the road became desolate, isolated from everything but the sea and the wind. Tinos pulled over, turned around to AJ, and said, “Is this quiet enough for you?”

  “This’ll do,” AJ answered.

  The three of them got out. It was past time to stretch their legs anyway. AJ had his grandfather’s .45 in his right hand.

  “Stand back. I don’t know if this will shoot or blow up,” he said, holding up the gun. “It hasn’t been fired in years, but I need to know if it’s going to work.”

  AJ racked the slide then carefully pulled it back a little to be sure a round had seated. He flipped off the safety and took a firm two-handed grip. He held the gun in front of him, a slight bend in his knees, his arms, and body forming an isosceles triangle as his Army training come back to him. He squeezed the trigger. The sound of the round going off scattered a flock of gulls and reverberated against the nearby cliffs. AJ turned around to see Ceres and Tinos ducked down behind the car, their hands over their ears.

  “I guess it works,” AJ said.

  His two companions only nodded, their ears still covered. AJ took careful aim at a piece of rock protruding from a larger outcrop. He fired four shots in quick succession. The rock chipped away and fell free. “Well, it works, and I can still hit where I’m aiming,” AJ said as he lowered the gun and walked toward his friends.

  “Are you through? Sure you don’t want to play cowboy and Indians some more?” Tinos said.

  “No. I’m good,” AJ said, popping the magazine out, and replacing it with a full one.

  “You shoot pretty good. Where did you learn?” Tinos asked.

  “My Uncle Sam taught me. I owe him a lot,” AJ replied.

  Ceres chuckled, knowing Tinos wouldn’t get the joke. “How much longer is it until we get to Thessaloniki?” Ceres asked as they got back in the car.

  “What, you don’t like the Greek countryside? You have the beauty of the coast, the sea air, what more could you want?” Tinos joked. Seeing that Ceres still had a smile on his face, Tinos said, “We should be there in an hour, maybe a little more.”

  The men were quiet for the rest of their drive. AJ looked out over the iridescent turquoise of the Aegean Sea. The waves turned white as they crashed onto the shore then turned back to blue-green as the water rushed backed out to sea.

  He felt the sea’s power and was moved by its beauty but was consumed with what would come next and decisions that had to be made.

  Tinos stopped in front of a large synagogue, turned to Ceres, and said, “We’re here, my friends. I think I should leave you here and find my cousin.”

  “Yes, thank you so much. You have been more help than we could ever hope to repay,” Ceres said.

  “Yes. Thank you. Will you be offended if I offer you some payment?” AJ said, handing him a wad of bills.

  “I will be offended, but I’ll take it. You forget, I have an idea how much is in your pocket. Will you call me if you need me?” Tinos said.

  “We will now that we have the new phones you got for us. You will be hearing from us again, of that you can be sure,” Ceres said and engulfed his friend in a big hug.

  AJ, too, hugged the big taxi driver and said, “Thank you, brother.”

  AJ and Ceres watched as their friend drove away then turned to face the synagogue and after an exchange of anxious glances walked right in. A small, stooped man immediately met them.

  “May I help you, gentlemen?” he said.

  “We’re looking for the rabbi. Would it be possible to speak with him?” Ceres said in Greek.

  “May I tell him what this concerns?”

  “A personal matter. If he has time to see us, that would be wonderful. If not, we can make an appointment and come back another time,” Ceres said.

  The old man looked the two visitors over closely then, after a moment’s pause, said, “Certainly, come this way please,” He turned on his heel and slowly led Ceres and AJ to a large paneled office lined with shelves filled with books. “Wait here, please. I will get the rabbi.”

  A moment later, a tall man with a thick salt and pepper beard appeared. He wore a black suit coat and a kippah.

  “Gentlemen, I am Rabbi Jocaba. How may I help you?”

  “Thank you, for seeing us rabbi. My name is Ceres Savas and this is my friend Ajax Pantheras. We apologize for arriving without an appointment. May we ask you a few questions?”

  “Certainly, come in,” Rabbi Jocaba said, offering seats to his two visitors.

  “Rabbi, I imagine from time to time you have fortune-hunters seek you out.”

  “Yes, looking for some lost treasure from the war. You’re not going to tell me you search for it, too?”

  Ceres shook his head, “No, rabbi. We are seeking something more. We seek some truth about something that happened here during the war.”

  “Then we have nothing to discuss. I will not talk about this. The memory of it is too painful,” the rabbi said, quickly standing.

  “Rabbi, this man is the grandson of an American soldier who fought here in the war. His father was killed recently. We think his death was related to the war-time tragedy here,” Ceres said.

  “What is your name again, young man?” the Rabbi asked AJ.

  “AJ, uh, Ajax Pantheras,” AJ answered.

  “Then yes, you do want answers. Your grandfather’s name is well known to this community. Some curse him, but others pray for him,” the rabbi said.

  “Can you tell us what happened to your people?”Ceres asked.

  “I’ll try,” the rabbi began. “Before the war Thessaloniki had the oldest and largest Jewish community in Greece, some 80,000 souls. Jews immigrated here beginning in the 1450s, and the community grew steadily for centuries. We lived peacefully alongside our Christian and Muslim neighbors. It was a splendid time. The people of this community appreciated the home Greece had given them when many other places in the world shunned them. Many men from here joined the army in the various wars fighting against the Byzantines and the Turks then the Italians and the Germans. The Nazi occupation began in the Spring of 1941 and imposed harsh anti-Jewish measures. No Jew could practice a profession or go to a café. We had to wear the yellow Star of David on our clothes. It was like other occupied places throughout Europe but here they were most cruel.”

  The rabbi paused to compose himself. AJ could see the deepening furrows on his forehead and the tears welling up in his eyes.

  July 11, 1942, is a day,” the rabbi continued, “that will be long recalled in this community. The German governor ordered all male Jews to Eleftherias Square. The Nazis humiliated them, recorded their names, and led the men away to labor camps. They worked in the mines and on the railroad. We paid a two and a half billion drachma ransom to free them. The Germans released them from the work camps, but a few months later, they were sent to Auschwitz and Birkenau along with the other Jews in the region and throughout the country. The rabbi’s voice cracked with emotion and he had to stop.

  “Thank you for sharing this with us rabbi. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to think about, let alone recount,” Ceres said.


  “Yes, it is difficult, but it is an important part of our history. I know the facts, and I know many of the names. I feel them here,” he said, putting a fist softly to his chest. “A very small number,” he continued, “perhaps as many as two thousand, managed to escape with the help of Christian friends or the Resistance. Some survivors returned after the liberation, but the community was decimated. Many immigrated to America, others to Israel. Today, we have two synagogues. Both are small communities but we will survive, praise God. We always have.”

  AJ and Ceres had been quiet during the rabbi’s story. Now, neither wanted to say a word, the spell was so strong.

  “Your grandfather’s name is well known here. Some who believe he stole the ransom and that was why the people went to the camps. Rumors persist it is hidden in the mountains or even in the sea. A group of captives escaped to the west coast, near Corfu, by train. The British or the Americans may have flown others out of the country, but I have never seen anything to substantiate this,” the rabbi said. “That’s my story, now what is yours, Mr. Pantheras?” Rabbi Jocaba said, looking intently at AJ.

  “My story is an unfinished mystery, rabbi,” AJ began and Ceres translated. “My father began looking into my grandfather’s war-time record. I believe it triggered his murder. My friend,” nodding toward Ceres, “has been helping me. I don’t know what my grandfather did, but I want to find out,” AJ said with a sincerity that moved Ceres and the rabbi. “Was he a devil or an angel? I don’t know.”

  “I know,” Ceres said. “He was no devil and I can prove it,” Ceres said. Both AJ and Rabbi Jocaba turned toward Ceres, who was holding John Pantheras’ notebook.

  “It’s all here. Look at the pages near the end, the ones written in Greek. They will answer your question,” Ceres said.

  Ceres had never let AJ look at the little black notebook. He flushed red as the rabbi took the book. Ceres had never even let AJ hold it. Now the rabbi, a stranger, got to read it.

  Rabbi Jocaba scanned the pages. He flipped back and forth, reading and rereading until finally he looked up and said, “Can this really be true? This story has remained hidden all these years. Can it really be true?” he said.

  “Lt. Pantheras, Ajax’s grandfather, gave me that book in 1944. I made those notes myself, at the time. Do you believe we are more than treasure seekers?” Ceres said.

  “Yes, I believe I do, praise be to God.” The rabbi, who had been leaning back in his desk chair suddenly leaned forward, the chair protesting with a loud squeak. “You should speak to a woman here.” The rabbi said, reaching for his telephone directory. “She escaped but came back after the war, and stayed on. Her father was rabbi then,” Rabbi Jocaba said, picking up the telephone on his desk.

  “Anna? Anna is still alive, here?” Ceres said.

  “You know her?” the rabbi asked.

  “Yes, rabbi. We were together on that train to Corfu.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Rabbi Jocaba drove AJ and Ceres through Thessaloniki to a small well-tended villa on the edge of town. Ceres fidgeted the whole time. He tried to straighten his rumpled sport coat, pulled at his collar, and ran his fingers through his thin hair as though he could convince it into some neat coiffure. The car pulled into a circular drive, and Ceres went deathly still.

  “Ajax, perhaps you should meet Mrs. Arons. I will wait in the car,” Ceres said when the car stopped at the front door.

  AJ, amused by his friend, vaguely understood his nervousness at seeing a woman he knew as a child. When the front door opened, Ceres changed immediately. The woman framed in the doorway was short but slim. Her grey hair, combed to one side, fell in short, curving bangs above a pair of oval glasses. She leaned on an ebony cane that was lost against her black skirt. Her face, set with lines earned over many years, came alive when she saw Ceres emerge from the car.

  “Mrs. Arons, this is Mr. Saves and Mr. Pantheras,” the rabbi said, “the men I called about.”

  “Yes, it is you,” the woman said to Ceres, ignoring the rabbi. “You are Ceres, the little boy on the train all those years ago? Oh, how wonderful to see you,” Anna said as she rushed toward Ceres and caught him in a tender embrace. “I never expected I would see you again.”

  “Anna,” was all Ceres could say. Both of them tried to hide their tears.

  After the two had held each other a few moments, Anna gently pulled away and said turning to AJ, “You have brought a friend.”

  Ceres said, “This is Ajax Pantheras.”

  AJ stepped forward and shook the older woman’s hand as he said, “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Arons.”

  Anna smiled at AJ and turning to the rabbi said, “Rabbi, it is so nice of you to bring me guests. I have so few these days. Shall we go inside? You would like coffee, I’m sure.”

  The three men were escorted to a large drawing room where they settled into the comfortable sofas. A maid appeared with coffee and an assortment of sweets. When her guests each had a brimming cup, Mrs. Arons opened the conversation.

  “When rabbi phoned me, I wasn’t sure what to think. It’s been so long. Ceres … you look wonderful. Not nearly as old as I do, I’m afraid,” their hostess began.

  “Please, Madame Arons, it was a long time ago for both of us.” Ceres smiled hesitantly.

  “Call me Anna, please. We are the oldest of friends,” Anna said.

  “Certainly,” Ceres replied. “You look well. I searched for you after the war, you know, but the clues quickly ran out.”

  “I was ten when we escaped with the others to Italy. You were so kind to me in that boxcar and on the boat. I was so afraid. You were my strength.”

  “We were both afraid. If I was brave, it was to impress you,” Ceres said. “What became of your father?”

  “My father was involved in refugee work after the war. We lived in many of the displaced persons camps and moved many times. Bari, Brindisi, a huge camp outside Rome. It was a difficult life,” Anna said.

  “I remember it was a difficult time. Did you meet your husband in one of the camps?” Ceres asked.

  “I met my Mr. Arons when we were in the big camp south of Rome. He and his family brought food every week. His family was in banking in Rome. When the war was over, he recovered quickly. I’m afraid I disappointed my father when I fell in love with a wealthy man, strange as that may seem. My father wanted me to help him in his work and, well, I wanted a different life. He was dedicated to the refugees and worked hard to establish the State of Israel. He went to the Holy Land in 1946 during the British Mandate, but he died on one of the convoys to Jerusalem in 1948. He never saw Jerusalem. That had been his dream,” Anna said.

  “I’m sorry. I remember him as a kind man,” Ceres said.

  “Oh, he could be kind, but the war changed him. He was obsessed, driven to see our people settled. There were so many uprooted by the war. I think that’s why he went to Palestine,” Anna said. “But what about you?”

  “I was in the camps, too, first in Italy then in France. I was one of the lucky ones sent to the United States by a refugee group. The brother of a man from my village, Andrew Papandreou and his wife, Eleni, took me in. They were very good to me.

  Mr. Andrew, as I called him, made me a part of his family and gave me a new life,” Ceres said. “I was to marry their daughter, but she died in an accident. I trained with Mr. Andrew to be a printer and worked for newspapers and a publishing house.

  When eventually both Mr. Andrew and Eleni passed away, I was surprised to receive a substantial inheritance. I opened a book shop in Boston with that money.”

  “You never married?” Anna said.

  “No, I never married,” Ceres said, looking at the floor, anxious to change the subject.

  AJ, sitting quietly in the corner, hid a smirk behind his hand as he feigned a light cough.

  “Tell me about your husband?” Ceres asked.

  “Mr. Arons, Joseph? He was a good man, a kind man. We married in 1951. I was so young then. He passed
away four years ago. We have a son who lives in Rome. He carries on in the family business and is on the board of the Banco Media Roma.”

  “You must be very proud,” Ceres said. He sounded very genuine.

  “I am. Now that we’ve caught up, rabbi said when he called you were here looking for something. I have talked only of myself and not asked how I can help you. Certainly, you were not looking for me. How can I help an old friend?” Anna said, leaning forward, toward Ceres.

  “My friend Ajax is the grandson of Lieutenant John Pantheras,” Ceres said.

  Anna’s hands flew to her face as she cried out in surprise.

  “Oh, I am an old fool,” she said as she struggled to her feet, leaning on her cane. She rushed to AJ, hugged him, and said, “I should have recognized you or at least your name.” Turning to Ceres she said, “He looks like Lieutenant John, don’t you think? The eyes? The shape of his face?”

  “Perhaps a little, in the face certainly,” Ceres replied. “You see, Ajax wants to determine what happened to his grandfather. His father, Andreas, died recently, and we think it could be related to what happened here during the war.”

  “What happened here,” she said, squinting against the possibility, “that would be impossible,” Anna exclaimed. “It was such a long time ago.”

  “Do you recall hearing what happened to Lieutenant John? Did your father tell you anything?” Ceres said.

  “I don’t remember anything specific. I do recall my father told me he had written letters to the American Army, thanking Lieutenant John for getting our people out of the country. My father was one of the ones the Americans flew out, you know,” Anna said.

  “So that story is true?” the rabbi asked.

  “Oh yes. It’s true. My father told me there were a great many airplanes to carry our people to Italy. I don’t know how many times this happened, but Lieutenant John arranged it,” Anna said. “Sadly, I don’t know what happened to him.”

  “When did your father write the letters, after the war?” AJ asked.

  “Both during and after the war, I think. Wait, he did tell me something else about Lieutenant John. What was it?” she said, putting the heel of her hand to her forehead and tapping her foot. “Sometime after the war, my father heard the American Army accused Lieutenant John of something.” She put the knuckles of her right hand to her lips as though trying to force the memory to return.