by Nick Vellis
“We are expecting a signorina. Three vino blanco, please,”
AJ said to the waiter.
“It is aperitvo signore,” the waiter replied. “Right away.”
AJ spotted Gia as she came around the corner. She was still in her blue dress. Belted tight at the waist, it clung to her ample curves like wet fabric. Her hips swayed in subdued sensuality, her long legs teasing through her skirt’s high slit with each step. When her Etruscan eyes met AJ’s, her face lit up and she waved. AJ noticed the men on the street watching her, hungrily.
“Ciao, Carlo. Vino a i miei amici,” Gia said to the waiter.
“Ah, I see you found it. This is my favorite place,” Gia said to her clients. “The staff here is the best,” she said as she sat lightly on her wooden chair.
The sight of her captivated AJ, and he tried unsuccessfully not to stare.
“I have preliminary information,” she began. “It’s just the basics. Did you know all of the American soldiers have passed away?” Gia said, leaning toward the table to pick up her wine.
“I did,” Ceres replied, impatiently. “Anything else?”
“Christos Stavros survived the war but was killed during the Greek Civil War.”
“You’re sure about that?” Ceres asked, his voice choked with emotion.
“I’m afraid so,” she said, consulting her notes.
“The name you added to the list, Alexandru Dobos, is former Romanian secret police. At one time, he worked for a private security firm based in Bucharest, but now it’s not clear who he works for. Interestingly, Dobos is currently wanted for questioning in an Athens homicide.”
“Really,” AJ said. Thank you Tinos, he thought to himself.
“Max Dorn was arrested in Greece in 1953. He served time in a Greek prison, then was sent to Germany. He was convicted there too. He died in prison in 1970,” Gia said.
“Too good for him,” Ceres mumbled.
“Then there is Nikko Solaris,” Gia continued. “Mr. Solaris is a Greek national living in San Marino. He is one of the wealthiest men in the principality. He owns a huge estate, two shipping lines, is involved in import/export, commodities, real estate, the list goes on. He’s been investigated by Europol and Guardia di Finanza for insider trading, fraud, smuggling and illegal weapons importation to name just a few things, but nothing’s ever been proven.
“What about his war record, anything there?” AJ asked.
“Yes, what about during the war?” Ceres added, leaning forward with anticipation.
“His war record makes Mr. Solaris the most interesting name on your list.” She hesitated a moment for effect. “You see, the Greek government executed Nikko Solaris by hanging for treason and mass murder in April 1946.”
CHAPTER 16 OCCUPIED GREECE 28 OCTOBER 1944
The Americans watched the time drag by as noon turned into 12:15 and then 12:30. Frustrated, John realized the Andartes’ habit of loosely measuring time had its advantages.
“They’re late,” Colonel Johnson said, raising a small dust cloud kicking at the dirt with his cowboy boot. He looked into the sun to judge its height in the sky, shading his eyes with his white Stetson. “Real late. Are they up to something?”
“I don’t know. I…”
Pantheras’ statement was cut off by a shout from Nick Sanna.
“L-T, I see smoke to the south along the rail line,” Nick called out.
“Finally,” John said.
“Patience, lieutenant, patience. Remember a bad coin always turns up,” Rabbi Keses said.
“Do you have a saying for everything, rabbi?” Tex Johnson drawled.
“Mmmmm, not everything. A wise man knows when to stay silent,” the rabbi said with a wry smile.
The two American officers joined Sanna on the hilltop and watched as the train came ever more clearly into view beneath a trail of black smoke. Their relief at seeing the train turned to new apprehension over what was next.
“Nick, get down below. Make sure everyone knows it’s show time,” John said. Turning to Gus he said, “Get on the horn and tell Christos and his people to stay under cover.”
Twenty minutes later, the train, belching a column of thick oily smoke, came to a stop near the marker set up by a stack of ten crates. The walkie-talkie crackled to life with the voice of Captain Solaris.
“We have complied with your request. There are 510 Greek Jews on this train,” Solaris said.
“OK captain, but no tricks,” John replied over the walkie-talkie. “Let the hostages go. Have them move toward the gap between the hills to the west. We are watching you and them.”
John waved to Rabbi Keses, who in turn motioned for the trucks to head for the gap in the hills. The trucks would move the women, children, and any sick or injured among the hostages to safety.
The doors on the boxcars opened, slowly at first, then more rapidly, a sea of humanity poured out.
“Captain, while we’re waiting, I’ll give you further instructions,” John said.
“Yes,” came the static-filled reply.
“When the civilians are in our care you can send ten men to retrieve the crates, understood?”
“Yes.”
“Not before I tell you and only ten men.”
Again, time dragged. It was a pitiful sight, watching more than five hundred people trudging through the barren valley. When John could no longer see the mass of people, he turned his attention toward the bottom of the hill and saw George waving. The first group of Jews was in the clear.
“All right, captain. Send out your men,” John said. “Observation posts, report.”
One by one, the observation posts on the surrounding peaks reported they’d observed no activity.
The last voice was Christos giving the all clear. John wanted the reports done over walkie-talkies so Solaris and the Germans would know they were being watched.
“Lieutenant, I’m beginning to think you don’t trust me,” Solaris said.
“I’ve seen what trusting you does, captain,” John replied.
John watched through his field glasses as a collection of German and Greek Provincial soldiers jumped down from the train and checked out the heavy crates. The men tested and hefted, then struggled to heave them into an empty boxcar. Soon, they had them all loaded and wearily got back on the train.
From the base of the hill, John saw the first of the trucks return. Rabbi Keses waved, signaling all clear.
“Very well, my friend. No trust. I can live with that. The train is loaded. When is our next rendezvous?” Solaris said.
“Two days, same place, same arrangements. Now get out of here. Out,” John said.
The train disappeared into the distance as quickly as it had appeared.
“So when are those planes due, Tex?” John asked, scanning the skies to the west.
“Thirty minutes maybe a little more,” the Air Corps colonel replied.
“I hope it’s less. I can’t hold my breath much longer,” John replied, without moving the binoculars from his eyes.
Less than an hour later, the C-47s began to land. The first planes carried food, fuel, and two dozen additional OSS troops, as promised. The additional men would come in handy in case of a fight and made the refuel process a breeze. The men unloaded the planes, distributed food and water to the refugees, and began refueling the planes.
“How many planes are coming, Colonel Johnson?” John asked, as the Texan returned from meeting with the transport pilots.
“The plan was for twenty-five, but one had to turn back with engine trouble. We have enough passenger capacity, though,” the colonel replied.
With only five-gallon jerry cans, refueling the planes was slow going. The delay gave the rabbi time to walk among the refugees, pass out more water, and calm their fears. When a plane was refueled, it was loaded to capacity with passengers and took off.
“This operation’s picked cleaner than a Christmas turkey, lieutenant,” Colonel Johnson said as the last two of the transports landed si
de by side on the rough ground.
“I think you’re right, sir. I’m surprised. I expected them to try something. By the way, I thought you told me there were escorts for the transport planes. Where’s the escort?”
“There was a tasking issue and concern about fuel. Now that there’s fuel on the ground and other missions reassigned, we should see some help real soon. We’ll have a few surprises for ‘em. Just wait,” Tex drawled, “just wait.”
Two days later, another train arrived, unloaded its pitiful cargo, and left with a boxcar filled with riches. Plane after plane landed, refueled, and took off with its precious human cargo. Two days after that, another train arrived and the drill was the same. Three groups of people were safe. John estimated they’d evacuated more than fifteen hundred people, but there were so many more.
“L-T, we’ve got enough loot for the next two deliveries. You want to send some men to get some more?” Zabt asked.
“We’ll wait until the next group arrives and the planes are gone. I don’t want to split our force,” John replied. “Get the men ready, George.” The train should be here within the hour.”
John walked up to Tex, who was sitting in the shade of a tent fly extending from the side of the German half-track.
“How’s it going colonel,” John said.
Tex looked up and replied, “Finer than frog’s hair. You sure know how to make a soft old guy like me comfortable.”
“Listen, I know you said we’d have air cover, but I’m getting worried. This has gone way too easily. Do you think we might get those extra planes today?” John asked.
“I can only tell you what they tell me. Word is that bombing raids up north are getting the fighter cover. You’re right, though. This has been too easy and it’s ‘bout time them Nazis tried something.”
“Well, I hope they get here today,” John said, a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
John sat down next to the colonel. “Look, Tex, we’ve been getting away with this longer than I figured. If we’re attacked in force, I want you to get out of here. Your plane’s fueled up and ready, right?”
“Look-a-here lieutenant,” the Air Corps colonel said, emphasizing the rank, “you can’t get rid of me that easy. I see what’s goin’ on here. We’re saving lives, not just killin’ Nazis.
You think me or these men are gunna’ run when it gets tough?”
“I’m just trying …”
“I know what you’re trying. You’re trying to look out for your men and that’s good, but there’re risks in war, mister, and we take ‘em together and that’s the end of it.”
“OK sir. Thanks,” John said, getting up to check the perimeter positions one more time.
“Sure, don’t mention it, but will ya cut out that sir crap? It gets embarasin’,” the pilot said, “and I’m bettin’ that extra help ‘ll be here today.”
Darrian Megolos came running up to Pantheras. “L-T OP 3 has spotted a kraut armored column headed our way,” the excited sergeant said.
“Here we go,” John said as he popped up and jogged toward the radio tent with Megolos.
Gus relayed the report to Pantheras. “They’ve spotted a column of trucks and half tracks coming from the south.”
“How many?” John asked.
“Twelve trucks and six half tracks,” Gus replied.
“Great. That makes it about company size, light infantry. Ask them if they see any tanks or other mechanized stuff? Can they estimate how long before they get here?”
Gus called the observation post and asked John’s questions and quickly got his answers, “About two hours till they arrive and no tanks.”
“Well, that’s something,” John said.
John had thirty men, his original six and twenty-four additional men who had brought bazookas and mortars. Christos had thirty men, but his entire force was stationed in five observation posts on the mountaintops surrounding the plain. They were effectively useless for defense against the approaching Germans, but John did have advance warning. Maybe he could work that to his advantage.
“L-T, the train’s coming,” Chris Raptis shouted from his position. “It’ll be here in half an hour.”
Damn, John thought. Not enough time to set an ambush for the Germans and get the refugees clear. “All right, get ready for a new group,” he called to the men.
The trucks, lead by George and Rabbi Keses, headed for the gap between the hills. Two teams raced down the hill toward the rail line to take up their well-camouflaged positions armed with BARs and bazookas. The remaining men set out water and food for the refugees and moved a truck loaded with fuel toward the landing area. The group worked together as a well-oiled machine, but John worried that machine wouldn’t be much of a match for the column headed their way.
Fifteen minutes later the walkie-talkie crackled to life with the voice of Captain Solaris, despite the train being more than five miles away. “Lieutenant Pantheras. Are you there? Emergency, I must talk with you.
John looked at Gus Kasseris with raised eye-bows. “What’s he up to now,” John said.
“Can’t be good,” Gus, replied.
“Yeah captain, I hear you,” John said.
“Lieutenant, we must meet. We must talk face to face,” the captain replied.
That’s not happening, John thought. “What’s up, captain?” John said over the radio.
“We risk being overheard on the radio,” Solaris said.
“Go ahead with your message,” John replied.
“If you insist, there are two columns of German troops converging on your position. One is coming from the north and another from the south.”
John’s eyes widened, two columns not one, two columns forming a pincer and with their little band in the jaws. “Why are you telling me this captain?” John said over the radio.
There was a long pause then Solaris said, “You have dealt fairly with me, lieutenant. I thought you should know. Oberst Dorn intends to overrun your position and retake his cargo. If he can capture or destroy your aircraft, so much the better.”
Well he won’t get his loot back, John thought, since it’s not here. “I don’t believe you just want to be helpful, captain. What do you want?”
“Never mind that now. Oberst Dorn wants the cargo and to destroy your airplanes. He’s sending two companies of mountain troops against you. When your airplanes arrive, they will attack. That is why I am late, to give them time to move into position, but I am afraid I have disobeyed orders.”
What could he be up to, John thought. “Captain, unload your passengers as soon as you arrive. When I am satisfied, I will tell you to disembark your men for the transfer,” John said.
“Very well, Lieutenant. Good luck.”
When the train squealed to a halt, the people immediately got off. The rag tag civilians moved quickly toward the pass until they were out of John’s view. Looking down toward the camp, he saw Gus waving, indicating the refugees were getting on the trucks and we’re in the clear.
“You can start the transfer, captain,” John said into the walkie-talkie, but Solaris didn’t reply.
The men on the train jumped down and began the task of loading the heavy crates into the boxcars with Captain Solaris directing their activities personally. The crates were loaded, and John saw the captain wave as the train got underway.
The refugees slowly arrived in the makeshift camp. Rabbi Keses supervised distribution of food and water and determined if any of the refugees needed medical assistance.
“Colonel, it sure would be nice if those planes got in here PDQ,” John said. “We need to bug out of here fast.”
“Yeah, it would be nice if they were on time. I’ll see if I can raise ‘em on the radio,” Tex replied.
While Tex tried to contact the incoming planes, John organized a defense.
“Lieutenant Pantheras,” Tex was calling his name as he ran up to him.
“We got thirty-three planes inbound, ETA fifteen minutes, and I think ou
r problems just disappeared.”
John turned his efforts from dispatching units to intercept the Germans to preparing for the incoming planes. If they could turn the aircraft around quickly enough, they might get clear before the Nazi troops arrived.
As Tex had predicted, within fifteen minutes planes started to land. The men hurriedly began refueling. Twenty minutes after it touched down, the first transport was loaded and racing across the rough ground taking off to the west toward Italy.
“L-T, another report for OP 3,” Gus said as John entered the communications tent with Tex Johnson.
“How close are they, Gus?”
“They’re an hour out L-T. OP 5 reported another column approximately the same size approaching from the north, no tanks though. None of the positions have reported any enemy aircraft,” Gus said.
“Colonel, will you do the honors? I think it’s about time to spring our surprise,” John said.
“Thank you, lieutenant, it will be my pleasure, sure ‘nuff,” the Texan responded.
He turned and waved to eight pilots standing by their aircraft. Each man climbed into the cockpit of his refueled and fully armed silver P-51 Mustang, the green and white checkerboards of the 308th fighter squadron, the Emerald Knights, painted on their tails.
The Mustangs, the allies’ most advanced fighters, had raced the 360 miles from Brindisi, to cover the evacuation. The plane’s 1,650-mile maximum range meant it could easily reach its target and return to base, but couldn’t linger. The ability to refuel and rearm in Greece made the Mustang a formidable threat to the Germans. With fuel topped off and armed with bombs, rockets and six fearsome .50 caliber machine guns in each wing, they were more than a match for anything the Germans had heading their way.
Mechanics in overalls who had just landed with the transports ran to their assigned planes, buttoned up the canopies and gave their pilots a thumbs up. They jumped from the wings, and the pilots fired the engines. Eight liquid-cooled Merlin Rolls-Royce engines whined and then belched white smoke as they roared to life. The red nose cone, the spinner, on each plane began to turn, and each engine settled into a powerful hum. The four black prop blades disappeared in a blur as they spun faster and grabbed the air.