by Leah Fleming
‘So who is Bruce Jardine?’ Yolanda quizzed, changing the subject. ‘His name had brought colour to your cheeks like rouge.’
‘Oh, someone I used to know when I was a student,’ Penny said, not wanting to go into detail about her girlish crush all those months ago. She was now a different person from the one he would think lived here with Margery.
Yolanda slept on a camp bed in the bedroom while Penny tossed and turned. Bruce had called. If only she’d stayed in she wouldn’t have missed him . . . but she’d ring and arrange to meet him somehow.
Do I really want to see him though? she pondered. Do I want to raise my hopes all over again? She must thank him for bringing post – that was only polite – but was that the only reason she was glad he’d come round? It was pointless going over her feelings. She’d think straighter in the morning. One thing was certain, Penny Georgiou had important priorities these days, and the thought of Hitler’s storm troopers marching south towards them was no comfort at all. Even so, she heard the owl hooting well into the night, and then the screech of the cock in the yard before she finally fell asleep.
The telephone, at the number Bruce had left, rang for ages until a sleepy woman’s voice replied. Penny wanted to throw down the receiver with disappointment.
‘You want Brucie? Darling, everyone wants Brucie . . .’ The accented voice paused to shout upstairs, ‘Where’s he gone?’ There were muffled voices, one of them a man’s.
‘Sorry, can’t help you,’ the woman told Penny. ‘They’ve all been marshalled somewhere hush-hush. Who shall I say called?’
Penny hung up without giving a response, in no mood to listen to the drawl of Bruce’s hungover mistress. Still the same Bruce, up to his old tricks with the ladies. She stomped out of the room, furious to have raised her hopes that his call was anything other than that of a polite courier, helping out Evadne.
Yolanda left early to return to the Israels, leaving behind her new dress and evidence of last night’s excursion.
Penny heard in the bakery that the Greek General Papagos wanted his best forces to remain in Albania while the British were heading north to back up forces on the Bulgarian border. But then she heard a rumour in the grocery store that it was the other way round. She knew the state of the army in the west and just how brave and tired they were in trying to defend every inch of Greek territory, despite how poorly equipped they were and short of bullets. People in Athens had no idea how dangerous this conflict was getting.
Margery came back from her office in the embassy, hinting that there were big meetings going on in the Hotel Grande Bretagne. Even the King had been seen walking through the foyer with his entourage. It was all rather fraught there, she added, and plans were being made to evacuate troops and British residents from the southern ports, should the alliance fail.
Penny prepared for her recall to service with a heavy heart.
It must be a bleak prospect to engage with the best army in the world. As they headed north, this time she knew what was awaiting them. She took time to notice the wild beauty of the hillsides, the carpets of wild flowers, reds, yellows, whites, the blossom. Villagers flung biscuits and bread into the trucks, and wine, as if this were some celebration of certain victory. Their joy did not last for long.
Raiders began serious bombing of the city and Piraeus harbour. The Clan Fraser, a munitions ship, exploded, destroying every ship close by and most of the harbour, with a terrible loss of life. Then through a mountain pass came the fresh troops of the German mountain divisions, breaking the Greek line. Within days Salonika fell and the Greek Second Army surrendered. Only New Zealand and British troops were left to hold the defensive line.
For Penny, it was back to the trucks ferrying the wounded south again as the news grew more worrying each day. The British were not holding out. There would be no relief from either east or west, and the morale of the divisions was flagging as they were forced to retreat over land once won at such cost. The Cretan 5th Division fought bravely at Aliakmon but the forces pounding them were overwhelming in fire power, strength and equipment.
Suddenly the nightmare of retreat began in earnest as bedraggled men headed south, strafed all the while by planes and bombs. Trucks were held up by huge craters in the roads, which took hours to fill in with dead animals and debris. Miles took days, not hours. Progress was painfully slow, the retreating soldiers bloodied, their uniforms tattered, the defeated look of exhaustion on their faces. The seriously wounded were hidden in villages or left to die where they fell for lack of men to carry them.
Penny’s team pulled aboard as many wounded as they could. Yolanda, working close by, went out with a doctor to tend the walking wounded, and sometimes they carried men on their backs to get them to shelter.
One soldier begged Penny not to chart his temperature, wanting to get up and return half-healed of his infection. ‘I’m fine now, let me go back. Those are my friends out there. How will I look their mothers in the eye if I don’t go and find them?’
They were getting used to taking out makeshift casualty stations to help men on their way, everything easy to fold up. Beds, chairs, cases of medical equipment, gas stoves and pans, all were loaded onto mules to be taken to temporary respite centres.
When they came to a river it was a matter of ropes and pulleys, persuading the animals to forge across, and Penny rode at the helm of her convoy, confident that she could manoeuvre the mules as well as any man. She pretended to be back in the hills of Scotland, among the bracken and glens. How simple and luxuriant were those long-gone days. Here, they were in constant danger from German planes spotting their stations. At first she had felt sure that no one would ignore the big Red Cross signs on their uniforms and tent roofs, but some took no notice and then it was everyone into the ditches for cover. They were treating any wounded, friend or foe, but the soldier guards found that hard to stomach after such a raid.
At night the nurses sat stony-faced, saying little. How could Greece fall so quickly?
A doctor smiled and sighed. ‘I expected to eat my Christmas dinner in Athens, and I did, but where I will eat my Easter egg, only the Good Lord knows!”
Yolanda looked sombre when she heard gathering rumours of Jews being rounded up across the borders. There was talk of them being singled out as hostages and even for execution.
While she had more reason than any of them to be worried, for all, it was a matter of one foot in front of the other when their truck broke down. Penny wondered if she would ever sit down again. She had never felt so filthy in her life, her scalp itched and her skin was flea-bitten, but there was no time for self-pity as the wounded piled in for help. When would this journey ever end?
One by one the lines of defence crumbled: the Aliakmon River, the Mount Olympus defences and then the famous narrow pass at Thermopylae, where King Leonidas and his Spartans held out against Xerxes and the Persian hordes. British and Anzac troops were flooding back south in retreat, and the Red Cross staff also moved back with the wounded as, one by one, the hospital bases were occupied or destroyed.
Penny went south to Kifissia, where it was utter chaos. She was trying to sort out accommodation for the wounded – hotels, tents, anywhere to give them shelter and where they could be treated. It took seven days for soldiers to return from the north, and by then the worst casualties were in a terrible condition. The makeshift wards in the grounds of the hospital were little more than open-air tents to give shelter from the sun and rain. The Greek troops were grateful but Penny was anxious. There was a constant struggle to find hot water, and with no sluices or bedpans, the place stank. The ever-present rumble of guns in the distance told of rearguard actions, desperately trying to hold off the onslaught.
The German POWs were restive, fearful that they would be killed before their army liberated them. There was bribery on offer, fear and unease around nursing them.
The nurses tried to keep hygiene routines but the Greek soldiers lay around in unwashed uniforms, unshaven, covered
in lice and fleas, their morale so low that some shot themselves. The doctors were wearing revolvers on duty in case discipline should break down. It would only be a matter of time before the British nurses and others would be evacuated to Egypt with the most serious casualties that were fit to travel, but the constant air raids now made travel to the ports dangerous.
It was a very sombre Easter Day, everyone trying to make the most of that most holy celebration. There was no dancing in the city now, not when so many wives were widowed and children orphaned. Yet the retreating armies were shown only courtesy and concern. ‘Nike! Nike!’ Girls throwing flowers wished them well. ‘Come back soon . . . Take care. God be with you.’ It was humbling to see them lining the streets in black. Surely they’d know this retreat was more like a rout.
In the midst of her duties, Penny received a visitor from the embassy, a Mr Howard, an official in a linen suit who had worked alongside Walter, before his departure.
‘Time you were heading home, Miss George,’ Mr Howard told her. ‘Walter has made arrangements for you on the next ship out. I hope you have a suitcase ready and packed. It’s highly irregular but we have transit papers ready for you to sign.’
Penny paused, lighting up a much-needed cigarette. ‘This is news to me. You can see the situation here. I’m a nurse. How can I just walk away?’
‘The British wounded are being evacuated and their nurses are going with them. The Greek nuns and nurses will hold the fort. You must be prepared to jump when called.’
Penny suddenly felt a rush of anger after all the Red Cross staff’s efforts to help every casualty they could. ‘So my Greek casualties are to be abandoned here, then?’
‘That is their government’s concern. Ours is to get our fighting men and essential staff and civilians away as soon as possible.’
Penny shook her head, having heard enough. ‘Thank you for the offer but I have patients to see to now. I’ll be remaining here.’
‘Don’t be a silly girl, do you want to be interned as an alien? You’ve got a British passport.’
‘I have a Greek name. I can pass as a Greek nurse,’ she insisted.
‘Who are you fooling, Miss George? It says you are a minor.’
‘Miss Georgiou, actually. Now I really must return to duty. I will go when I am ordered to by my superiors and not before.’
Mr Howard stormed off, muttering that she was lucky to be given preference. But Penny didn’t want preferential treatment. It was only then that she realized he was wrong about her age, and her twenty-first birthday had indeed come and gone unnoticed, without so much as a bunch of flowers or a cake. She’d been so busy, away from the city for weeks, and the post now was erratic. How could she have missed that important milestone? She was free to choose for herself now, and she’d just made yet another momentous grown-up decision, in dismissing Mr Howard. How she had changed in the past months. She no longer recognized her former self, the debutante bolter, the lovesick adolescent, but to be twenty-one and forget such a milestone? Somehow she’d make sure they all celebrated her birthday in traditional Greek style with chocolates and cake, easier said than done in this chaos.
She found an orderly, who went in search of a local bakery and came back with honey pastries and wine to share with the ward. It was a welcome little treat in this crazy situation. ‘Chronia Polla, many years!’ chorused the staff and patients.
Later, as they sat hugging their cocoa, watching the night sky lit up with a thousand stars, and listening to the distant crumple of bombs, Penny decided to tell Yolanda of her encounter with the embassy official.
‘I promised my father I would come home if there was danger but how can I go now, after all we’ve been through?’
Yolanda looked out over the darkened city and sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking the same. I promised my parents I would join them on Crete. When the enemy comes I am sure to be on some list, if the rumours are to be believed, and I’ve heard some terrible rumours . . . Should I leave now?’
Penny shook her head. ‘You must do what is best for you, but I’ll miss you. I’m going to hang on until the bitter end. They’ll have to lever me out with a crowbar. Everyone is so disheartened. Today I had one boy refuse to eat or drink. He says he just wants to die. Others just want to go home. Who will help them if we don’t? I can’t help feeling they’re being abandoned. I’d feel ashamed to be British, hopping onto the first ship to safety.’
‘Promise me you’ll keep in touch, whatever happens.’ Yolanda smiled, patting her arm. ‘Happy birthday. I’m sorry it’s not much but I want you to have something.’ She pulled out a little parcel from under her cloak.
Penny unfolded the tissue paper to find a beautifully embroidered white handkerchief with her initials intertwined with a purple Y and delicate flower.
‘You did this? It’s beautiful, so delicate. I had no idea you could do such work, and the lace edging . . .’ Penny felt tears in her eyes. ‘Wherever we land up we’ll always be friends. I wish I’d got something to give you back.’
‘It’s not my birthday, wait until October.’ Yolanda pointed to the violet flower. ‘Now when you see those little flowers on your travels you can think of my name, of us; friends for ever,’ she added.
‘Thank you so much,’ Penny whispered, giving her a hug. ‘I shall treasure it always.’
Two nights later all the nurses were ordered to help the British nurses gathering up their wounded for evacuation in trucks, ambulances and anything that could pull a cart. There were tears as the British nurses parted company with their faithful aides and Greek staff, knowing they would be left to the mercies of the oncoming enemy, already only miles from the city. Wrapped in their cloaks, Penny and Yolanda sat with the stretcher cases, checking dressings and pulses as they made their slow journey down to the beaches under cover of darkness.
It must have been an orderly retreat at first, but by the time the hospital evacuees headed out there had been bombing, and the usual craters, abandoned trucks and lorries were blocking their slow crawl. The remains told their own story of hurried retreat: dead horses shot, suitcases ripped open and looted, scattered equipment, broken guns. There were queues all heading in the same direction, and in the distance the sad silhouettes of wrecked merchant shipping, warships and caïques, while other vessels sat uneasily out in the water at Nauplion.
The waterfront was bombed out of recognition, the stench of cordite and rotting flesh was everywhere. How would anyone get on board the waiting ships before dawn? It would be a miracle in this confusion of men and machines, but orders were barked, lines drawn up, the stretchers off-loaded with care. Thankfully the sky was clear of raids that night and the moon was not too full.
Penny stared out at the ships in the bay with a heavy heart. How many of them would make it safely to their destination? What would become of them once the troops had left? Suddenly, one of her soldiers in front began to panic and fit. It took Penny and two of her colleagues to hold him down and inject him with a sedative. By the time he was calm, the queue to board the boats had shuffled forward and the evacuation at last seemed to be progressing smoothly.
Yolanda was far ahead out of sight, busy with the walking wounded, guiding them towards the waiting ferry boats in the embarkation area. Penny carried on with her paperwork, comforting the shaken men, waiting for Yolanda to rejoin them. ‘Where’s Nurse Markos?’ she enquired after half an hour. It was almost time to return to base for another ambulance load, if needed. She walked around the crowds of men, searching for her friend. No one seemed to know or care as they went about their own duties. What was one nurse among so many?
It was only when they were heading back that Penny concluded with relief that Yolanda must have taken another truck back to the hospital. She ran up the steps to check the staff room, the washroom, the ward corridors and outside huts. But after dawn when there was no sign of Yolanda she began to panic. Why wasn’t she back here? Surely she hadn’t left without telling anyone?
Y
olanda would never abandon her charges. Had something happened in the mêlée? There had been some desperate types, some drunk and despairing, on the beach, and Yolanda was petite and attractive. But surely no one would harm a nurse in Red Cross uniform. Had she slipped and fallen on the beach or into the sea? Penny’s mind was racing with explanations as she combed the wards, back and forth, hoping to see her familiar figure propped up somewhere, half asleep.
By daylight she knew in her heart Yolanda was gone, leaving her abandoned and alone. Something awful must have happened. She gripped the hanky Yolanda had given her, knowing it would soon be her turn to go on board with the wounded. Where were they sending them? Would she ever see her friend again?
In the days that followed, Yolanda’s disappearance puzzled and unsettled Penny. She felt isolated, suddenly bereft, her resolve to stay put, weakening by the hour. What good would it be if I was interned, she thought. At least if she returned home by sea she could continue nursing. Then the air raids were stepped up and ships en route out of the Aegean were sunk. There were few of the brave RAF pilots left who tried to cover the evacuation and the last rearguard actions. If Yolanda was aboard the Ulster Prince where was she now? Penny dreaded to think.
Then came news of the sinking of the steamer Hellas full of civilians, burned alive in Piraeus harbour.
‘We will manage. We can look after our soldiers. You go and look after those poor young men from your country,’ Penny’s nursing friends insisted.
She lay awake all night wondering if they were right. She had promised Papa she would leave, so there was nothing for it but to humble her stubborn pride and register for evacuation. But she would go with a very heavy heart.
It was chaos in the embassy office when she arrived and she was not exactly welcome, having refused to go earlier.
‘You’ve left it too late, young lady. They’ve all gone,’ the official snapped at her. ‘You should’ve come last night.’ Mr Howard, when he passed her in the queue, seemed to take great satisfaction in seeing her there. His smug face was more than she could stomach. Running away was the coward’s way. Hadn’t she just celebrated being an adult and free to choose her own path? Gathering herself, shoulders back, Penny turned round and walked out of the door.