Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor

by Nick Vellis

  “How…?”

  “You were wounded and brought here by airplane,” the doctor said in the condescending style of his profession.

  “What happened to…?”

  “Two bullets struck you in the left shoulder. The wound was very serious. I had to amputate your arm,” the doctor said.

  “My arm! No,” Solaris said as he tried to sit up, looking where his arm had been. He came only a few inches off the pillow and fell back, exhausted.

  “Take it easy. There are others here who are not so lucky. You will live, captain.”

  “There was another man with me. Do you know…?”

  “Don’t talk now, captain. Rest, you have a long road ahead. We will answer all your questions,” the Wehrmacht doctor said.

  “Orderly, see he gets two more units of blood, and continue the morphine around the clock. Call me if there is any change.”

  “Yes, Herr Doctor,” the orderly replied.

  The phone rang at SS Oberst Dorn’s bedside and he looked at the clock. Six-thirty, the sun wasn’t even up. This had better be good, Dorn thought, pushing the naked girl under his arm away. The girl groaned and rolled over. He patted her behind and turned his attention to the phone.

  “Yes,” Dorn said.

  “Herr Oberst, Dr. Bauer at the hospital. You left orders I notify you when the man Solaris was awake.

  “Yes.”

  “He is conscious this morning, Herr Oberst.”

  “Excellent. Is he able to talk?”

  “Yes, Herr Oberst.”

  “The other man?”

  “Still unconscious, Herr Oberst,” the doctor replied.

  “I will be there in thirty minutes,” Dorn said. He looked at the naked girl next to him remembering how willing she’d been when she realized how to bargain for her family’s lives. “I will be there by nine o’clock," Dorn said, still looking at the girl. “Make sure no one speaks to him until I arrive.”

  “Yes, Herr Oberst.”

  Dorn slammed the phone down on the cradle, startling the girl.

  “Sorry, my dear, business calls me at all times of the day and night,” Dorn said. “I believe we were negotiating for the release of your father and brother. You were doing an excellent job persuading me that they may be innocent of sabotage. Pray continue,” Dorn said as he embraced the girl.

  “Christos, someone is coming,” Spiro called out from his post at the top of the hill.

  “Who is it?” Christos replied, rising from his place at the fire. He downed the reminder of his tea and headed up the hill.

  “A woman and a boy,” Spiro replied. “I’ve never seen them before but they say they are from Parthos.”

  “Keep an eye on them and watch for anyone else following,” Christos called out. Then to his men he said. “Take your positions. Let’s see what these two want.”

  Twenty minutes later, a woman in head-to-toe black homespun and a small boy entered the Andartes camp. The woman kept the boy by her side, a hand on his shoulder.

  “Why have you come here, woman? You know it’s not permitted,” Christos shouted as he bounded down the hill toward the visitors.

  The woman pulled the boy close to her. “It’s Demas. He insisted. He would have come by himself, but…”

  “Hurry up woman. What do you want?” Christos said.

  “He disappeared in the cave,” the little boy said, breaking away to stand in front of his mother.

  “Christos, these two are from Parthos,” one of the men said.

  “You are from Parthos? Who disappeared?”

  “He came in a big truck. He was kind but he told me to go away, and I did but I heard a big boom and saw fire,” the boy blurted out.

  “What are you talking about, boy? Slow down. What big truck? Fire? Who?”

  The woman lifted her face and spoke softly, defiant. “It was the man who was with you when you came to our village. My boy saw him, spoke to him by the grotto.”

  “Yes, he said his name was John of the United States Army,” the boy said as he pulled away from his mother.

  Christos sighed and said, “Come sit by the fire and tell me what happened.”

  “I was taking my sheep down the hill to the grotto spring. The big truck was there.”

  “This truck, it had the black cross on the side?” Christos asked.

  “Yes. He was asleep under it. We talked, and he wished me well. He would not share my food, so I went away. When we heard the boom, I took the sheep back up the hill. The truck was on fire. Diana ran into the cave just as the man was coming out.”

  “Diana? Christos asked.

  “My lamb,” the boy said, tears streaking his cheeks, “She ran into the cave. I ran after her. He caught me and threw me out of the cave, and there was another boom only louder, smoke and dust everywhere. The cave … Diana and the man … they were gone.”

  “He saved my son’s life,” the woman said.

  “As he saved the lives of many Greeks,” Christos replied.

  “Who was he? I must know so I can say a prayer for him,” the woman said.

  “His name was John Pantheras. He came from far away to help us,” Christos said. “It appears he has helped us again.”

  “Spiro,” Christos said, turning to the young man, “can you get that radio to work yet? We must report that a good man is dead.”

  SS Oberst Max Dorn, Military Governor of Northern Greece, strode confidently into the postoperative ward determined to get answers. The entire medical staff snapped to attention. The SS Death’s Head insignia he wore on his collar commanded respect and fear.

  “Dr. Bauer, where is the patient?” Dorn said without acknowledging the room full of personnel at attention. “I must question him at once.”

  “This way, Herr Oberst,” Dr. Bauer said, indicating with an open hand for the man to follow him.

  “Return to your duties,” Dr. Bauer said to the staff with a dismissive wave. A dozen people found excuses to escape the SS officer’s line of sight. His reputation put a cold shudder into everyone who knew his name.

  The two men walked quickly past row after row of metal hospital beds, some with white privacy curtains around them. The sharp click of the SS officer’s heels on the stone floor reverberated through the room. When finally they approached yet another curtained off bed at the end of the cavernous room, Dr. Bauer said, “Here is your man, Herr Oberst.”

  “You may leave us now, Herr Doctor,” Dorn said.

  “Yes, sir,” the doctor said, backing away from the ward bed, glad to away from Dorn.

  Dorn watched him go and listened as his footfalls disappeared in the distance. When they were alone Dorn drew a chair up the bedside and said, “Solaris. Can you hear me?”

  Solaris, in a morphine haze, moved his head from side to side. His eyes fluttered open as he turned his head toward the voice.

  “Yes… Who …?” he said.

  “It is Oberst Dorn, Captain Solaris. I’m here to help you,” Dorn said, leaning nearer. “I can help you. Tell me where you have hidden the gold and all is forgiven.”

  “My major… has …”

  “Yes, your major, took the gold from me. Where is it?”

  “I …” Solaris struggled to get the words out

  “Come on, captain, help me and I will help you,” Dorn urged.

  “Aga…” Solaris struggled, his breath short.

  “What is that, a name or a village?”

  Trying to speak again, Solaris said, “Aga …”

  “Where is it?” Dorn said, trying to contain his frustration.

  The Greek brigands had lost his treasure and secretly recovered part of it. He had used the two Greeks and their men to keep his superiors in Athens and Berlin from learning about his deal to extort the Greek Jews, but it had backfired. The Americans stole his tribute, and the traitorous Greeks, the major, whoever he was, had recovered some of his gold, and kept it for himself.

  “Where is my gold?” Dorn shouted, shaking Solaris by hi
s one good shoulder.

  Solaris cried out in pain. Morphine could only dull pain so much.

  “Where is it, you prig?”

  Dr. Bauer rushed past the curtain to restrain Dorn, who was still shouting at Solaris.

  “Herr Oberst, I must protest. This is a hospital and this man in my charge. You will cease immediately!” the doctor shouted at his superior as he pulled the SS officer off the wounded man.

  “Agamemnon,” Solaris said.

  “Agamemnon, what is that?” Dorn demanded, shouting at the delirious man.

  Solaris’ head lolled uncontrolled to the right. He was unconscious. Dorn, deflated, shot up, turning over his chair.

  “What is Agamemnon?” Dorn said, looking at the doctor.

  “A character from Greek myth, Herr Oberst… In The Odyssey, Agamemnon commanded the Greek army in the Trojan War,” the doctor said. “It’s a common Greek name.”

  “Where is the major, the one who came in with this one?” Dorn said, shooting a dark look at the unconscious Solaris.

  “The more serious cases are one floor above Herr Oberst. The Greek major has a head wound and is in serious condition. Perhaps you could tell us his name. He had no identity disc.”

  “Show me,” Dorn said, pushing the doctor ahead.

  The doctor trailed along behind Dorn as he raced up the open staircase. The second floor housed dozens of individual rooms for the most serious cases.

  “The man has a chest wound and deep gash on the right side of his head, Herr Oberst. Please, no more interrogation,” Dr. Bauer said as he stopped in front of room 213.

  “I will see him now,” Dorn demanded.

  Dr. Bauer opened the door to room 213 slowly. A glass jar holding a liter of blood hung from a pole in the corner. A pile of bloody bandages was in the center of the bed, but its occupant was gone.

  “Where is this seriously injured man, Herr Doctor?” Dorn said menacingly.

  “I don’t know. I have not seen him yet this morning,” a shaken Bauer said. “Orderly!” he shouted.

  Two young men in Medical Corps uniforms rushed into the room in response to the doctor’s summons. They stared in shocked disbelief at the empty hospital bed then, realizing Dorn was in the room, snapped to attention.

  “Where is the patient?” Dr. Bauer demanded.

  “He was here at 0130 and again at 0330 when I made my rounds, Herr Doctor,” the taller of the two men said. “I recorded his vital signs in the chart.”

  Bauer consulted the clipboard hanging from the mysteriously empty bed and grunted.

  “And you, what have you to say for yourself?” Bauer demanded of the second orderly.

  Still at attention, the obviously frightened young orderly said, “I came on duty at 0800 Herr Doctor. There was an emergency with the patient in room 201. I have not yet checked this patient this morning.”

  “It appears now you will not have to check on him at all,” Dorn said dryly, looking at the young orderly. I will have you shot!”

  “There was an emergency this morning, Herr Oberst. I was in the room myself,” Bauer said. “This man was in the room assisting me.”

  “Herr Doctor,” Dorn said making an attempt to control his rage, “I suggest you have the hospital searched. Look for anything unusual, men leaving, items missing, anything out of the ordinary. Report your findings to me at my headquarters. You had better put a guard on Solaris as well.”

  Dorn turned on his heel and was gone without another word. The two Corpsmen took a full breath and relaxed.

  “You are still at attention. I hold you two responsible. Call the Sergeant at Arms and have him search the building. I want a full written report from you two within the hour,” Bauer said.

  He left the room, leaving the two dazed men to contemplate their fate.

  Dorn settled into the seat in the back of his Benz staff car and said to the driver, “Headquarters.”

  As the big car pulled away, Dorn tried to think. Solaris was delirious and the major, whoever he was, was missing. Why had he trusted his fortune to a young chameleon? Dorn had placed a mere boy in command of the Security Battalion because of his brutal success dismantling the ELAS resistance group. Better to have a Greek killing Greeks. The boy had liquidated resistance leaders, including his own father, and burned dozens of villages, effectively destroying the communist-controlled ELAS as a fighting force in the Thessaloniki area. He had used a number of names to confuse the resistance. It apparently worked because no one knew who he was except perhaps Solaris. I’ll have to have another talk with that one, he thought. Dorn was suspicious of the man he knew only as the major because he constantly changed his name. Where could he be now, Dorn thought?” He would order an all out search, but for whom, a young Greek thug? There was also Agamemnon. Solaris had repeatedly tried to say the name. Who or what was Agamemnon? It could it be a code name, a place, what? Dorn put his hands to his head. It’s too early in the day for a headache like this, he thought.

  The driver opened the car door and Dorn hurried inside. The Wehrmacht guards snapped to attention at his approach. Dorn crossed the lobby of the commandeered hotel that served as his headquarters. The thunder of his boot heels on the marble floor was the only sound. An impressive array of German and Greek flags, portraits of Adolf Hitler, Himmler, and Greek Prime Minister Rallis decorated the lobby but Dorn paid them no attention. He had a problem to solve. The place smelled of sweat, disinfectant, and despair. Dorn went straight to his office, ignoring the smart salutes from the guards and officers in the halls.

  “Good morning, Herr Oberst,” his aide, Captain Otto Klinst, said as Dorn burst through the door.

  “Come, Otto,” Dorn said, not slowing down.

  He went straight to his desk and pushed aside a pile of files readied for his signature.

  “There was an urgent telephone message from Field Marshal List’s headquarters, Herr Oberst. The field marshal’s aide requested you call as soon as you returned,” Otto said.

  “Where did you tell them I was?” Dorn said, looking up expectantly.

  “I advised headquarters you were inspecting the hospital, Herr Oberst. The call was at 0800 hours.”

  A good man, Otto, Dorn thought.

  “Place a call to the field marshal immediately. When you have done that, call a meeting of my staff for,” Dorn said, looking at his watch, “thirty minutes from now.

  “Yes, Herr Oberst, anything else, Herr Oberst?

  “No, Otto, that will be all.”

  “Very good, Herr Oberst.”

  “Otto, there is one thing more thing. Check the files, local sources anything you can think of for reference to Agamemnon. It could relate to a name, a village, a code name, any reference.”

  “Immediately, Herr Oberst,” Otto said. The aide clicked his heels, gave the Nazi salute, and left the office, quietly closing the door on his way out.

  Dorn had only a moment to think before the telephone rang. Dorn answered and said, “Yes.”

  “Your call to the field marshal, Herr Oberst,” Otto said. He heard three loud clicks as the call connected then the voice of the Commander of German Forces in the Balkans, Field Marshal Wilhelm List, came on the line.

  “Dorn, are you there?” Field Marshal List said.

  Dorn stood and said, “Jawohl, Herr Field Marshal. Good morning.”

  “Good morning yourself, Dorn,” the field marshal said. “Why are you inspecting hospitals instead of catching these bandits, these resistance thugs?”

  “I was questioning some wounded officers about the resistance, Herr Field Marshal. I expect to report progress by the end of the week,” Dorn said, regretting he had put a deadline on himself.

  “Never mind that now. The bandits are no longer your problem. I am ordering a complete evacuation of the Greek mainland to commence immediately. The Eastern front is drawing upon all our resources. I want the Twenty First Mountain Corps and the First Mountain Division on the move by day’s end. They are to secure the withdrawal r
oute. Unit commanders will get their orders from my headquarters this morning. You understand what this means, Dorn?”

  “Yes, Herr Field Marshal,” Dorn replied. It means I have little time to find my gold, Dorn thought.

  “Army Group A will coordinate the withdrawal to ensure units are ready when redeployed to the front and to put down any harassment by the resistance. Combat units are to depart no later than 1400 hours tomorrow, support units by the end of the week. Get your men moving, Dorn.”

  “Yes, Herr Field Marshal, and may I say…”

  The line was dead. Dorn stared at the phone a moment then slowly sat down as he replaced the receiver in its cradle. He looked around his office. The trappings of his power sat before him and evaporated before his eyes. I must recover my gold, he thought.

  A knock at the door startled Dorn. Oh, the staff meeting, he thought.

  “Come.”

  Six officers entered, stopped in front of his desk, and saluted. Dorn gave them his usual half-hearted Nazi salute in return.

  “Be seated, gentlemen.”

  When the six officers were sitting before him, he began. “Gentlemen, we must get to work. What we feared is upon us. The evacuation of Greece is to begin immediately.”

  The assembled officers traded concerned glances. With the exception of the occasional skirmish with the resistance and the disaster disarming the Italians, Greece had been a good billet. Every officer in the room had profited from his stay and enjoyed a handful of mistresses. Now, comfort would disappear and be replaced with the real possibility of renewed combat assignments.

  “I have one last job for you. The Security Battalion raided a Wehrmacht train some weeks ago. I want the cargo from that train recovered. The Greek major commanding them has escaped from the hospital and the fool Solaris is incapacitated. He did give me one piece of information though. A name Agamemnon,” he said.

  The officers again traded glances. Captain Otto Klinst, Dorn’s aide spoke first.

  “Herr Oberst, other than the obvious connection to The Odyssey I can find no reference to such a name as a code word, resistance group or village name or any reference in the files of the Army or Gestapo.”