Late-afternoon, Thursday, 24 August 1944
Last night, when Giovanni had gone, I pulled off my dress and slid into bed. Irini’s body was cold. She mumbled something.
‘What?’
‘Don’t leave me, Dora. I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.’
‘We’ll always be together, Irini. I promise you. Now stop worrying, and sleep.’
We’d had no time alone since I came back from the swamps. I held her close, thinking we needed to talk some more, but dreams of Giovanni overcame me and I fell asleep.
At sunrise, Irini bridled Zeus. I went through the goodbyes again, spending too much time on Evangelisa and not as much as I would have liked with Irini.
‘Stay safe, Dora,’ Irini said squeezing my hands before she gave me a leg-up into the saddle. ‘I can’t wait for your return.’
I left for Kamiros Scala, nervous to ride Zeus alone. Irini had tied a rope from under the bridle to his chest. She assured me this would keep his head down and stop him from trotting off. Still, I was afraid and clung to the reins.
I wish I was braver; therefore, I am braver!
Mid-afternoon, after a long and tiring journey, I arrived at the abandoned fishing hamlet of Kamiros Scala. I secured Zeus to the village trough and worked the pump handle. He drank noisily. I stashed my duffel, the gun, and my dress in a crevice, and with my folding knife between my teeth, I ran across the rocks and leapt into the turquoise sea.
Oh, the glorious water!
Air bubbles raced over my body, tickling my skin as I dived. Above me, blinding sparkles of sunlight flashed off the undulating sea. The cleansing taste of saltwater filled my mouth. I swam along the sandy bottom, then searched for mussels on the remains of an abandoned mooring. After prising them free with the tip of my knife, I tucked them into the brassiere I was supposed to grow into, and sprinted upward. On breaking the surface, the muted, swooshing, undersea sounds snapped into crystal clear birdsong and rustling leaves.
I placed the mussels in a shady rockpool and was about to dive for more when I noticed a golden patch of light glimmering on the seabed. After plunging down to investigate, I realised it was sunlight streaming through the chimney of an underwater cave. I thought of Jacob. He would be thrilled to discover this phenomenon. I wondered if the Nazi work camp was near the sea, and if Jacob got the chance to swim after work. I refuse to believe Giovanni’s story about the man that escaped from Poland. He must have been misinformed. It didn’t make sense to transport people all that way and then not use the manpower to its advantage. Everyone knows a man can’t work on an empty stomach.
I dived again, dipping into the cave, and up the funnel to the surface. The low light shone at an angle and lit part of the inter-ior. Bright-red spider starfish clung to the walls. Pipe worms, like exotic dahlias on calcified stems, waved their delicate petals. A baby octopus squirted clouds of black ink before disappearing into a hole.
I came up for air, dived further along the cliff, and found another underwater tunnel that opened into a spacious grotto. My eyes adjusted to the gloom. Devoid of a blue sky above, the water’s surface was dark and rolling. Low sunlight filtered through the flooded passageway into the cavern. I was mesmerised until something big and hard banged against my bare legs.
Holy Moses!
I gasped, gagged and spluttered. A large moray eel could take my toes off in a snap. Frantic and afraid, I scrabbled for a hand hold and pulled myself onto a narrow ledge in the cave.
In the cold murky cavity, I shivered, wondering what to do. What creatures might lie in wait for me when I dived into the dark water? I couldn’t stay there indefinitely, and if I didn’t get out soon, I’d miss my appointment.
My folding knife was tucked into the band of my brassiere. I unfolded the sharp blade and plunged into the sea. I feared the moray’s open mouth, sneering rows of vicious teeth, and its wild, lunatic eyes. My heart banged against my ribs. Even when I was clear of the cavern, I swam to shore as fast as I could. Salt stung my eyes as I stumbled and splashed, rushing out of the sea and staring back at the waterline. I shrugged into clothes, my wet skin tugging on the fabric, my heartbeat returning to normal.
At the horse trough, the roar of a motorbike grabbed my attention. I peered at the bend, glad when Tassos appeared. He’d brought two of his mother’s freshly baked tirópita wrapped in newspaper. Good manners forgotten, I feasted on the cheese pies, flakes of filo pastry messing the front of my dress. Tassos recited orders.
He placed his thin hand on my shoulder, making me feel uncomfortable. ‘Connect with a group of British soldiers,’ he told me. ‘They’ll arrive by boat. Be on the shore, watching the sea, at midnight. Lead them up the mountain to the blue and white church in Embona’s village square. The door will be unlocked. Tell them to go inside and wait.’
I nodded, eager to execute this important mission. Bringing our Allies to meet, I guessed, with the head of the freedom fighters was a big step towards peace.
‘And by the way, thanks for the snake. It saved my life.’
‘We’re even then; your bullet saved mine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got some mussels in a rockpool over the road, if you want them.’
When Tassos had gone, I led Zeus to a grassy area, put him on a long rope, and took off his saddle. After stashing my pistol under the rolled horse-blanket that doubled as a pillow, I caught up with my diary and then slept in the lush grazing.
Friday, 25 August 1944
I am still shaking from the terrifying events that took place last night. I am not out of danger yet, and will not feel safe until I am back at the hut on Filerimos. Although I am only halfway home, I wanted to stop and write everything down while it is still fresh in my mind.
When I awoke in the field last night, darkness had almost fallen. I resaddled Zeus and led him to the water trough. The air stilled and the sea became black and as smooth as oil. At the shore, I crouched and listened. The sounds coming off the water were pure and, as yet, unadulterated by the noise of man or boat. I settled against the rocks until, from the position of the new moon, I knew it was almost midnight.
I sat on a boulder, strained my ears for the slightest sound, and stared into the dark. Stars shone down. Gentle waves lapped the beach and rocks. The silence was unnerving and seemed unnatural, although I couldn’t say why. My night vision improved and I saw a wide fissure in the rock face. I squeezed into the crevice, made sure the pistol was ready for action, then I stashed it in the bag across my chest.
I hid there for at least thirty minutes, then I heard a cough, the noise so slight I’d have missed it if I hadn’t been on full alert. The hairs on my arms bristled. My eyes were so wide I feared my eyeballs would fall out. Someone was out there, near me! Friend or foe, I had no idea.
A rowing boat appeared around the headland. If this was the British, then who was it that had coughed? I shrank further into the fissure. A man stepped right in front of me, then another; they stood together. I hardly dared breathe or swallow. Surely they could hear my hammering heart.
The dinghy came closer. One of the soldiers before me raised his machine gun. I feared I’d be sick again. My pistol was in the bag, but if I moved, they’d become aware of me, and that would be the end of everything.
Papa! Help me!
The two men with their backs to me exchanged a few words in German. The other lifted his gun too. The rowing boat came closer. I heard oars working the water, then low talking from the vessel – English. As they approached the shore, machine-gun fire flashed from the headland.
‘Bloody hell!’ one of the English shouted. Three men leapt into the water.
The two Nazis exclaimed, annoyed, then one fired at the Brits. The noise deafened me but I took the opportunity to get my gun out. I was sure our allies couldn’t see the Germans in their camo uniforms and so close to the rock face.
The Brits were waist deep, wading straight towards the rocks.
One Nazi whispered to the other, ‘Eins, zwei, drei!’
I lifted my pistol, almost touching the back of a head. The shot kicked my hand up. I brought it down sharply to fire again, but the other soldier had started to turn. I caught the shock on his face. The bullet entered above his ear before the first German had hit the ground. The explosion hammered off the rock behind me, straight into my brain, sharp as a nail. For a second, my adversaries twitched in the throes of death. I doubled up and vomited. I was panting . . . then fighting for breath. My head, spinning, dragged me away from the reality and danger. Blackness invaded the corners of my eyes and I dropped to my knees. The softness of a deceased German beneath me, shocked me into recognising the urgency of the situation.
Back on my feet, I grabbed their machine guns and thrust them into the crevice. From the headland came another flash of gun fire, then a cry from a Brit, followed by splashing and screaming. I leapt over the two dead bodies and raced towards the English yelling, ‘Friend! Friend!’ as Kapitanos Nikos had taught me to do in a confusing situation.
One Brit floated, inert. The screamer had lost half of his face and now seemed hardly alive. The third clutched his shoulder, his body slumped with pain. I shoved my pistol back into its bag and grabbed him by his good arm.
‘Come! Come!’ I said.
His knees folded and he collapsed into the sea.
I didn’t know what to do! A distant line of silhouettes told me the Germans on the headland were wading straight towards us. We had to hide. I remembered the cave.
Reaching up, I slapped the soldier twice on the cheek, as Kapitanos Nikos did when I wasn’t paying attention. He appeared shocked. I grabbed his uniform with my good hand, and hooked the air with the other.
He got the message.
We floundered for the rocks. Machine-gun fire flicked water all around us. When we came to the area where the cave was, I slapped the soldier’s cheek twice, and pointed down.
I saw, or rather sensed, he was losing consciousness. Perhaps he’d been shot again. Bullets whizzed by. Sharp, zinging sounds. A fierce sting burned my thigh. Blinding pain. I heaved the Brit on, plunged with him under the water and then started to drag him up the underwater tunnel. He slipped from my grasp just before we reached the cave. If he tried to break through the surface while still in the tunnel, he could drown. The moment was mad, crazy, unreal.
I surfaced in a tumultuous spume, took a breath, and dived back down. He had surfaced too soon and was against the roof of the passageway. I grabbed his hair and pushed my feet against the rock wall to achieve enough forward momentum.
We came up in the cave, gasping and choking.
I hauled myself onto the ledge. The Brit groaned but managed to get out of the water too.
We had no idea how long the air would last, or even how we would know when it was almost used up. Would we fall asleep, or gasp and splutter as if drowning out of water?
I had to check what was happening. The darkness in the cavern was too intense to make signs so I couldn’t show the Brit what I planned.
Not knowing the word for ‘Stay’ in English, I hoped he knew some Italian. ‘Rimani qui!’ I said pushing him against the cave wall.
I headed down the tunnel, hoping the moray – or whatever it was – had moved on to a more peaceful residence. When I surfaced, I found I had my night vision.
Silhouettes of enemy soldiers swarmed everywhere. Four Germans carried the two I’d shot towards the road. I had killed again. An irreversible act that I knew would stay with me for the rest of my life.
As I took in what was going on, I heard nearby voices and saw a couple of Nazis in the Brit’s boat. They headed my way, pulling themselves along the rocks, searching.
I retreated into the subway and swam back to the soldier.
‘Shush,’ I whispered after I had surfaced. We sat in silence for a long stretch. Without the moon and stars to guide me, I lost track of time. The air lasted, so I guessed there were cracks in the rock above us.
Sleep was almost upon me, when I noticed light coming through the tunnel. I wondered if it was dawn. I slipped into the water, horrified to realise the Germans were searching the coastline with high-power torches. Their beams shone across the neck of the passageway, silhouetting a barrel shape that blocked some of the illumination. The form inched towards me and I suspected an enemy soldier had found the cave and approached. We had no escape!
Suddenly, I understood. It wasn’t a soldier, but a large grouper fish swimming away from the torchlight towards me. I reached out and touched his tail. He darted forward, and I heard the Germans yell.
Thanks, friend!
Not long after the fish incident, sunlight lit the neck of the tunnel. I tried to wake the Brit, but he’d lost consciousness. I couldn’t get him out of there alone, I needed help.
I swam out, headed for shore, and raced to Zeus, my wet cotton dress heavy and slapping against my legs. The nasty bullet graze across my thigh stung more intensely as it dried. After untying the restricting leash that kept the horse’s head down, I climbed onto the trough, and into the saddle. The nearest assistance was Embonas Village, up the mountain. I whammed my heels against the horse’s belly and hung on.
We galloped, my first experience of that alarming speed. The wind dried my hair and dress. Soon, we clattered into the village. I stopped squeezing with my knees and pulled on the reins. The relief when the horse responded was immeasurable. I walked Zeus across the empty square and into the churchyard. The community still slept. As I reached for the bell rope hanging at the front of the picturesque church, the door opened.
‘Dora! Get out of here!’ Nathanial said. ‘The village is full of Germans!’
I gawped at him dressed as a priest complete with cassock and hat.