Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor (12 page)

“Take care Ceres,” John called as he waved. “We’ll see each other soon,” John said, but he knew he’d never see the boy again.

One car after another passed him until the caboose flew by. John stepped onto the tracks as the train receded into the distance. Something shiny glinted at his feet, and he picked it up. He smiled as he realized he was holding half of Ceres’ gold bar, smashed flat on one end, scrapes, and rust from the heavy door marring its gleaming surface. “Maybe I will see that little guy again.” He said aloud, with only the wind to hear him.

John walked slowly to his waiting train.

“The boy cares a great deal for you, lieutenant. You’re his family now,” the captain said, having witnessed the tender scene.

“Guess so, since you killed his father and brother,” John replied.

“What, I didn’t killed Alec Savas. He’s my commanding officer, the captain replied.

Not knowing what to make of the captain’s denial John boarded the train. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” John said.

Less than an hour south of Veria, the train met the Americans in the trucks as planned. John was glad to see they were all right.

“OK captain you better get going.
Remember,” John, said, “for every train load of Jews he sends out, we’ll give him some the crates. If he goes back on his word, he gets nothing.”

“The governor will be very unhappy, but it will be my pleasure to tell him all about your plan,” the captain chuckled. “Good-bye, Lieutenant,” Solaris said as he mounted the steps.

Solaris’ train headed to Thessaloniki with five boxes out of the hundreds with which he’d started. John and his six men headed into the hills to hide a treasure.

“Twenty men overpowered you, a force of over a hundred? You expect me to believe that?” SS Oberst Max Dorn said in a low but barely controlled voice. In the comfort of his sumptuous office, peering from behind his massive rosewood desk, the SS officer cast an incredulous gaze at the Greek collaborator. “You may be the dandy of the Security Battalion, Solaris, but to me, you’re just a traitor like that slippery man you work for. How did twenty men stop a train?”

“Herr Oberst,” Solaris said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he stood at attention before his inquisitor. “Sabotage to the rails stopped the train. The Greeks and the Americans swarmed the train. It was a well-planned and executed ambush.

Hauptmanns Carlst and Stroheim dismounted to examine the damage to the rail but died heroically when they came under fire. Hauptman Gruber returned fire from the command coach steps but succumbed to his wounds. I was on the opposite side of the train organizing repairs to the track. I summoned my men, but they caught us in the open. It was a small force but well placed and well led. The battle was short, but we were indeed overpowered,” Solaris said, hoping his lies sounded convincing. He’d had plenty of time to concoct his story. Now he only hoped it worked.

“Hardly a battle, I would say. I see all the Wehrmacht officers, and men I sent to watch you were killed.” Dorn said, looking up from the captain’s written report. “How many of your own men did you lose defending the Reich’s property Captain?” the German commander said.

“Five killed, three wounded Herr Oberst,” the captain said sharply, hoping his superior would not check up on him.

“That fact seems to have been omitted from your report,” Dorn said.

“Yes, Herr Oberst,” the captain replied.

“Explain to me where the Reich’s property has been taken and what these gangsters expect us to do.”

“The Americans seized the train’s cargo. They plan to use it as a ransom for the release of the Jewish prisoners,” Solaris replied, relaxing a little now that the discussion had moved away from the attack.

“How is this to be accomplished?”

“We’re to go where the train stopped. It’s an open area with commanding high ground on three sides. A trainload of no fewer than 500 Jews is to arrive at that location by 1200 hours each Thursday, beginning day after tomorrow.

“How will we retrieve our property?” Dorn asked.

“The prisoners will walk west from the train. When they are out of sight we will be given further instructions,” holding up one of the American walkie-talkies, “on this device where to go for the ransom. The cargo will be broken into many parts. We will retrieve a few crates at a time. This device,” again holding up the walkie-talkie, “has limited range so the Americans will be nearby.”

“Quite ingenious,” Dorn muttered.

“Thank you, sir,” Solaris said proudly.

“Not you, you buffoon, the American. He risks much for these Jews, but he has a well thought out plan. This area is within range of our air reconnaissance, is it not?” the German said.

“It is, Herr Oberst. However, the Americans will not provide the location of the crates if they detect air reconnaissance or the presence of our troops,” Solaris said. “Their position provides excellent opportunities for observation, Herr Oberst.”

“Do you know how he intends to get these people out of the country?”

“No, Herr Oberst. Perhaps they will live in the hills,” Solaris said.

“He would have to feed them. That is a task the German Army has avoided, the logistics, the expense and ... political considerations. Feeding thousands of people in the hills would be impossible,” Dorn said.

“Jesus did it in the Bible, Herr Oberst. Perhaps the American is a religious man,” Solaris replied.

The SS officer was not amused. After enduring several tense moments of Dorn’s chilling stare in silence, Solaris said, “What are your orders, Herr Oberst?”

“Orders? Recover the Reich’s property. You will provide me with a plan before the end of the day. Now get out of here before I change my mind and have you shot.”

Reunited with his men and Rabbi Keses, Pantheras laid out the bones of his plan. When his lieutenant had finished, Sgt. Nick Sanna said, “No disrespect, L-T, but did you get hit in the head while we were gone? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sgt. Sanna was smiling, but worried. The men laughed, but there was a tension in the air.

“Wish I had, ‘cause then I’d have an excuse for this hairbrained idea,” John said. “It boils down to this. The Nazis will be pulling out of the country, maybe soon, but they plan to deport and kill thousands of Jewish civilians before they go. Looking at his men and the three Andartes he’d borrowed from Christos he continued. “Now there’s the seven of us. With our Andartes friends, we can muster maybe twenty-five more. We can destroy their supplies and vehicles, we can ambush the bastards, but we’re like a gnat on an elephant’s behind.”

John took a couple steps and looked up into the clear blue sky. “But if we get the Nazis running around looking for this stuff,” he said, motioning to the trucks parked behind him, “then we tie up hundreds, maybe thousands of troops. We accomplish our mission of disrupting the Germans, and maybe save the lives of a few hundred, maybe thousands of Greek civilians. These people aren’t just Jews, they’re Greeks too.”

“L-T, we’re with ya, but you got to admit it’s risky,” Gus Kasseris said.

“Sergeant, Lt. Pantheras is right,” the Rabbi said. “Remember, no man is worth his salt that is not ready at all times to risk his well-being, to risk his body, to risk his life in a great cause.”

“Is that a Jewish proverb Rabbi?” John asked.

“No, lieutenant, that’s a quote from one of your presidents, Theodore Roosevelt,” Rabbi Keses replied.

Gus quickly translated for the three Andartes, who nodded.

The men stood silent, alone with the sound of the wind. Finally someone spoke.

“What do we do first, L-T?” Spiro Costos asked. Spiro was the quiet, withdrawn one among the men so everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

“What? I can’t ask a question?” Spiro said.

The Americans laughed while their Andartes friends looked on, perplexed.

“What do we do?” John said. “First, we stash the stuff in the trucks, then we retrieve the crates we left by the rail line. The first group of refugees should arrive there tomorrow. We have to be finished moving the loot by then. We’ll need observation posts on those hill tops,” John said pointing to the surrounding hills. “and a way to cover the train in case of trouble. Let’s get moving. There’s a lot to do. Head southeast.”

The end of their long drive brought no relief for the men. They stretched their legs briefly only to begin unloading and hiding their heavy cargo. The ten men slept hard for a few hours, grabbed some hot food, and were on the move again. Then they drove back toward the ambush point, to wait. The vehicles pulled up next to the freshly turned earth that covered the crates.

“OK, men, dig here,” John said. “Spiro, get some ropes ready. We’ll use them to pull out the crates. Sing out when you hit something.”

An hour’s work uncovered the crates. The men struggled to remove them from the ground and then packed them in the trucks. When they were nearly finished, John said, “OK men. Leave ten of them here. Stack ‘em up so they can be seen from the rail line.”

“That’s a generous down payment, lieutenant,” Rabbi Keses said.

“When you deal with a rabid dog, it’s good to feed it, Rabbi,” John said. “I want them to be anxious for the next load.”

The Rabbi nodded solemnly.

“L-T,” Sgt. Gus Kasseris said as he approached his commanding officer.

“Yeah, Gus. What’s up?” John said.

“It’s the trucks, L-T. We’re low on fuel. We might make it another thirty miles, but after that we’re toast.”

“Yeah, we need gas,” John agreed, “or pack animals.”

“I was thinking, L-T. We could ask HQ to bring us some fuel when they fly in from Italy for the refugees,” Gus said. “They’d be coming out here empty.” Gus was in charge of communications for the group, and his suggestion reflected his specialty. 

“Good idea, but that means we’d need to send one vehicle back to pick up the radio,” John said.

“With fuel and the radio, we’d be set L-T. Wherever we need to move, we could call in transport. The krauts aren’t gunna let us get away with this forever. Don’t get me wrong, L-T, it’s a helluva plan, but communications would really help,” Gus said.

“I was thinking we’d use pack animals when we ran out of gas, but you’re right. The radio would be a better choice. Why don’t you and Spiro take the half-track and get moving? You can catch up with us.”

“Will do, L-T.”

A few minutes later as the half-track pulled out, Rabbi Keses walked up to John and asked, “Where are they going, lieutenant?”

“They’re headed back to our base camp to pick up the long range radio,” John replied.

“Will we be ready?” the Rabbi asked.

“We’ll be ready.” John knew that he couldn’t let his own nerves show. The operation was in motion. Any doubts wouldn’t help now. The entire plan depended on everyone involved trusting his judgment. It was a lot to bear.

Thursday morning dawned and found John thinking he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Gus had returned from base camp with the long-range radio, and it was set up and working. HQ had confirmed the evacuation arrangements, supplies, and fuel were on the way from Italy. John kept going over every detail, trying to see what tiny piece was missing. He couldn’t find it, and that bothered him.

“What’s wrong lieutenant?” Rabbi Keses said, as he walked up to the American. “You look worried.”

“There’re a lot of lives on the line today, Rabbi. It’s all on me,” John replied.

“Lieutenant, you are a fine man. You do your job well, but you forget who is ultimately in control,” the Rabbi said. “Our fate is in God’s hands. He will determine our success today and answer our prayers in his own way.”

“I hope he’s listening, Rabbi,” John said. “I really hope he’s listening.” Then he heard a faint sound. He listened carefully but couldn’t identify it.

“Spiro, you see anything” John called to the man on watch on top of the hill.

Spiro waved and called out, “Nothing in sight, L-T.”

“Check 360 degrees,” Pantheras called.

Spiro slowly used his binoculars to do a complete sweep of the valley and the rail line below him, and then turned his attention to the skies. John watched him intently. After a few moments, Spiro lowered his field glasses and called to John, “L-T, it looks like a plane coming in from the west.”

John started up the hill, his own field glasses in hand. It’s too early for the planes, he thought as he climbed the hill. At the top, he joined Spiro and watched the plane grow larger.

“Kraut plane, L-T?” Spiro said.

“Well, it’s twin engine, so it’s not a Storch. I can’t make it out yet,” John replied.

He thought of telling the men to take cover, but they were out in the open with nowhere to hide. He kept watching and hoping, as did the men who watched their lieutenant and Spiro.

After a few minutes, John breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Spiro, I see one OD Gooney Bird. How about you?”

“Spiro lowered his glasses, relieved and said, “Yes, sir, one Gooney Bird coming right up.”

John waved to the anxious men below and said, “All clear, it’s one of ours.”

Twenty minutes later, the olive drab C-47 with its distinctive white stars on either side of the fuselage was on the ground. The waist door opened, and the familiar face of Sgt. George Zabt appeared.

“Anyone here call for some gas?” George Zabt said as he jumped from the door.

“What are you doing here?” Pantheras said as he greeted the big man with a hug.

“I had to come. They wouldn’t let this other passenger on without me,” Zabt said, turning back toward the door as an airsick Christos emerged from the aircraft.

“Christos! You, too? Good to see you both,” Pantheras said reaching out to shake his friend’s hand.

Christos sat down on the door’s edge and waved weakly to John but didn’t move any further.

“He insisted, L-T. Said he had to get back here in time to help. He forced his way onto the boat, and threatened the major to get on the plane and he’s been puking since we took off,” Zabt chuckled. “He’s one tough bastard, if you’ll excuse my French.”

“Well, damn. Get him down from there. We have gas to unload.”

John helped Christos out of the plane as the pilot, a tall drink of water sporting oak leaves climbed down, a .45 strapped to his web belt and a white cowboy hat firmly on his head.

“Who’s Lieutenant Pantheras?” he said.

“I am,” John replied. “Uh, I am, sir.”

George came over and helped Christos to the shade of one of the trucks. The colonel jumped down from the plane and saluted. “I’m Ted Johnson. Call me Tex,” the Air Corps Colonel said. “I’ve got orders from headquarters for you, son.” He handed John a sealed envelope. “And I’ve got a verbal message from your Major Barber back in Brindisi. He said, ‘Tell that crazy bastard to get as many of them people out as quick as he can’ because he wants you back. He’s got a medal waiting for you, and he wants to be the first to shake your hand,” Tex said. “You’ve caused quite an uproar with this little operation, lieutenant. The Brits are fighting mad ‘cause they didn’t think of it. Staff is pissed ‘cause they have to divert planes. G-2 is mad ‘cause they didn’t know what the Nazis was doin’. You have brass from Cairo to Washington all fired up. Oh, you’ve stirred up one fine mess. Well done, lieutenant.”