Page 18 of A Call to Home (Women of the Resistance #3)

Cairo

June 1943

Leo tapped on the door of Basil Davidson’s office and went in.

‘I’ve just got the decrypt of Deakin’s latest message.’

‘What does he say?’ Davidson asked.

‘Have broken through German ring north across Foca–Kalinovik road near Jelec last night. Tito has extricated over ten thousand men. One division left in Montenegro in Piva area. Bitterest fighting witnessed.’

‘Well, that’s good news,’ Davidson said.

Leo bit her lip. ‘I suppose so. It seems the German attempt to trap them and wipe them out hasn’t succeeded.’

‘So?’ Davidson queried. ‘You don’t seem very happy about it.’

‘Oh, you’re right, it is good news,’ she responded. ‘I just… well, that bit about the bitterest fighting…’

‘Of course, I forgot for the moment your daughter is somehow caught up in all this.’ Davidson’s tone changed. ‘You must be worried sick. But look on the bright side. If they’ve escaped from Montenegro, they should be safe now. I’m sure Bill Deakin will give you any news he can discover about her when he has a chance.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Leo agreed. ‘It’s just… well, I thought he might have mentioned her sooner. But I’m being unreasonable. He’s been struggling to survive, by the sound of it. I can’t expect him to bother himself with looking for Alix.’

‘Give him time,’ Davidson said. ‘Perhaps he will have more chance to get to know the people around Tito now.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ Leo said. ‘Maybe there will be something in his next message.’

She had to wait two days before she heard from Deakin again and there was still no mention of Alix. Chance of wrecking Sarajevo–Visegrad; Sarajevo–Brod railway. Request immediate drop of explosives , the message read.

On June 20th, a further message informed her that the Partisans had crossed the railway.

The next message gave the map coordinates for a possible air drop of supplies, with an urgent request for food and medical equipment together with explosives. Leo took it to Basil Davidson.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘If they are really in a position to do some damage to the Nazi infrastructure I’m sure HQ will be keen to respond. Now that we have the use of the Halifax bombers, we have the possibility to reach further afield. Let’s have a look at the map.’

One of the limiting factors on SOE operations into Yugoslavia had been, until recently, the fact that the aircraft at their disposal had too short a range to fly missions into Bosnia; but Winston Churchill, learning of this during a visit to Cairo, had ordered that a fleet of six Halifax bombers should be put at their disposal.

Davidson spread a map on his desk and they peered at it together.

‘There,’ he said, marking the coordinates with a cross. ‘It’s close to some place called Medojevici.’

Medodevici. June 1943

‘What are these Englishmen playing at?’ Tito growled. ‘They promise support and supplies and they are always tinkering with their radio sets but nothing is forthcoming. I am more and more convinced that they have been sent not to help us but to spy on us. Alix, go and sit with them. Listen to what they are saying. See if you can make out if they are genuine.’

‘Sit with them?’ Alix queried. ‘On what pretext? I can’t just walk in and dump myself down.’

‘Tell them I’ve sent you to ask if there is any progress with this promised air drop.’

Alix sighed. ‘Very well.’

The little town of Medojevici had been fought over like most of the towns and villages in the area. The resistance here had been stronger than in some of the other places the Partisans had taken over. It was one of the last Chetnik strongholds and the defenders had fought with unexpected determination. The victorious Partisans had moved into houses deserted by the previous occupants but, as with every town they had occupied, the previous inhabitants had stripped them of everything edible. The whole area had been fought over since early spring, so no crops had been planted and livestock had either been appropriated by the German troops as they passed through or slaughtered by the starving inhabitants. The night of the roast pig was a distant memory now and she and her comrades had been living on what they could forage in the way of wild berries and herbs, with the occasional addition of squirrel when someone managed to shoot one. The passing of the army was marked by the strips torn from the bark of birch trees.

As Alix made her way along the streets strewn with the rubble of battle she gave way to a sense of despair. Hunger was taking its toll. She had ceased to menstruate and her clothes hung on her body like rags on a scarecrow. Not that she was alone in that. They had all lost weight. She had heard someone comment the other day how thin Tito himself was. But added to her constant hunger, Alix was suffering from an intense feeling of loneliness. In the danger and effort of the escape from Montenegro adrenaline had kept her going and she had had little time for thought. Now there was a pause in the endless movement she had time to remember Drago. She missed him terribly. He had been her childhood friend and her constant companion since she returned to Yugoslavia and she knew she would not have survived without him. Latterly his loss had been partly compensated for by Olga’s friendship, but now she was gone too. Before her there had been Mitra, also killed in battle. Even Milovan Djilas was lost, trapped somewhere on the Piva plateau. Nikola would have tried to fill the gap but, remembering past experience, she was unable to trust him. ‘What’s the point?’ Alix found herself asking. ‘Where is all this fighting and suffering getting us?’

She reached the house where the British agents had taken up temporary residence and made an effort to shake off the dark cloud that threatened to overwhelm her. Deakin was sitting at a bare table, scribbling notes, and Corporal Wroughton, his radio operator, was doing something to his radio set. Neither of them spoke much Serbo-Croat but Deakin spoke fluent French and German, so those were the languages in which they communicated. Alix delivered Tito’s message in French and Deakin looked up with a smile.

‘Well, you may have come at just the right time. We are waiting for a response from Cairo, hopefully giving us a date and time for a supply drop. If you want to sit down for a few minutes you may be able to take the news to Comrade Tito.’

Alix sat gratefully and the two Englishmen began to chat in their own language. Walter Wroughton’s stomach rumbled loudly. ‘Beg pardon,’ he said. ‘My stomach thinks my throat’s cut.’ He was from Yorkshire and to Alix’s ears his accent gave the words an added touch of humour.

‘Mine, too,’ was Deakin’s response.

‘I dream of apple pudding with custard,’ the corporal muttered.

‘Do you?’ Deakin responded. ‘For me it’s a big pile of hot toast with lashings of butter and honey.’

‘Jam rolypoly,’ Wroughton said dreamily.

‘Chocolate sponge with chocolate sauce,’ Alix murmured, reliving her English schooldays.

‘Blackberry and apple crumble, with cream,’ Deakin offered.

‘Spotted dick,’ Wroughton added.

‘Treacle tart,’ Alix whispered longingly.

‘Baked…’ Deakin broke off abruptly and stared at her. ‘You recognise these dishes?’

Alix came to with a start, realising she had given herself away. ‘I… I went to school in England,’ she stammered.

‘And you speak English,’ Deakin went on. He got up from his chair and came towards her. ‘Just a minute…’ He stopped and slapped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘What an idiot! Look, I don’t like to ask, but would you mind taking off your headscarf?’

Alix understood why he was asking and, with a feeling of relief, she pushed back the scarf covering her hair.

Deakin gazed at her. ‘You must be Alexandra Malkovic. Your mother asked me to look out for you.’

Alix’s heart leapt. ‘You’ve met my mother? Where?’

‘In Cairo. She is working with the people who sent me. But why haven’t you made yourself known? I had no idea you spoke English until just now.’

‘Oh, well…’ Alix struggled for an explanation, ‘there really hasn’t been much time for… for sharing personal information.’

To her relief Deakin seemed to accept that. ‘You’re right. Circumstances haven’t given us much chance for social niceties.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Malkovic.’

‘Oh, please just call me Alix.’

He turned to the corporal. ‘Wroughton, this is Countess Malkovic’s daughter.’

Wroughton thrust out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss.’

Alix said, ‘You know my mother, too?’

‘Oh yes, Miss. She was there to see us off when we flew from Africa. We’ve all got a lot of respect for Countess Leo.’

‘That’s true,’ Deakin said. ‘Your mother’s a very strong-minded lady and her knowledge of your country was a tremendous asset in briefing us for this mission.’

‘Hang on a minute.’ Wroughton turned to his radio set. ‘Message coming in.’

He sat down and clamped the headphones to his ears, scribbling rapidly on a notepad. After a moment or two he tapped out a response with his Morse key and then began scribbling again.

‘What…?’ Alix began.

‘He’s decoding the message,’ Deakin explained. ‘Shouldn’t take long.’

The corporal stopped writing and handed the notepad to his commanding officer. Deakin’s face broke into a smile. ‘You can tell Comrade Tito that an air drop is scheduled for 03:30 the day after tomorrow. Oh, and Wroughton, when you acknowledge that message I want you to add two words. Alix safe.’

As darkness fell the following evening Tito and the men of the Escort Battalion assembled at the appointed drop zone. There was no shortage of dry timber to build the signal fires and by midnight everything was ready. The night was sultry with a hint of thunder in the air.

Deakin was looking worried. ‘There’s very heavy cloud cover. It’s possible the pilot won’t be able to identify the drop zone.’

They waited tensely as the hours passed and as the time approached, men stationed by the fires set light to improvised torches ready to thrust them into the stacks of wood. Like all the rest Alix strained her ears for the sound of aircraft engines. Once she thought she heard something but it was distant and indistinct. Minutes passed, but the sound, instead of coming closer, faded into the distance.

Eventually Deakin said heavily, ‘It’s a no show, I’m afraid. Could be the weather, or they may have been intercepted by enemy planes. I’m sorry, everyone. It will be getting light soon. There’s no point in waiting any longer.’

In dismal silence the fires were dismantled and all trace of them covered with leafy branches to conceal the site from enemy reconnaissance aircraft. Then they all trekked gloomily back to the town.

Alix knew they were all as disappointed as she was. Deakin had said confidently that the flight would bring food as well as medical supplies and explosives and the prospect of filling the void in her stomach had buoyed her up since the message had arrived. It was Tito’s reaction that worried her more. His distrust of the British agents had been alleviated by the promised air drop but now she knew it would be reinforced. He listened to Deakin’s explanations as to why the mission had been aborted but Alix could see he was unconvinced. The atmosphere was tense until Deakin announced that a second attempt would be made two nights later.

As they waited Alix found an opportunity to call in at the house where the British had taken up residence. Deakin greeted her warmly.

‘I was hoping we could have a little chat.’

‘I was wondering if you had any news of my father.’

‘I never met him, but I understand he is in London with King Peter.’

Alix nodded. ‘That’s not surprising. I don’t know if my mother told you, he has a hereditary position at court and he was very close to Peter when he was growing up. He would feel it his duty to stay with him.’

‘Do you think he expects the king to be restored when… well, when all this is over?’

Alix sighed. ‘I’m sure that is what he is hoping for but…’

‘But Tito may have other ideas?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ She shook her head. ‘I know he, my father I mean, probably thinks I’m fighting on the wrong side. Perhaps I am.’

‘Not if your main aim is to free your country from the Nazis,’ Deakin said.

‘You think we, the Partisans, are doing a better job than the Chetniks?’

‘From what I know of the current situation the answer is yes. When I left Cairo all the intelligence we gathered suggested that the Chetniks as an organised force were pretty well defeated.’

That brought a sudden jolt of recollection to Alix’s mind. ‘Defeated? Do you mean in battle with the Germans? Have many of them been killed, or captured?’

‘I really couldn’t say, but my impression is that most of the fighting has been between them and some of your people. The last I heard, General Mihailovic had retreated into Serbia and his forces had split up.’ He looked at her sharply. ‘I imagine you have people you know, friends perhaps, who opted to support him.’

‘No, not really,’ Alix hesitated. ‘Well, there’s just one man, someone I met in Paris. But he’s not even Yugoslavian.’

Deakin leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m intrigued to know how you came to find yourself here. Will you tell me?’

Alix related the story of her time in Paris, her return to Belgrade as the first bombs fell and how she had been recruited by Nikola into Tito’s inner circle.

‘So, by the time you got home, your parents had already left?’ he asked.

‘Not quite, but they were in the city and I was at the country house and they had no idea I had come home. I tried to find them in the chaos but by then they had already left with the royal party.’

‘So you haven’t seen them since…?’

‘Since 1938, when my mother left me in Paris.’ Suddenly the pent-up longing of almost five years was too much to contain and she burst into tears. Deakin patted her shoulder and pressed an almost clean handkerchief into her hand, but his English reserve prevented him from putting his arms round her and after a few minutes she pulled herself together and apologised.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m the one who should apologise for making you rake it all up. I’m so sorry. But if it’s any consolation I should say from what I know of your mother you are what we call “a chip off the old block”. She would be proud of you.’

Next night they assembled again at the chosen point ready for the supply drop and the fires were prepared. The sky was clear and the area was illuminated by an almost full moon. As the appointed time approached a murmur went round the assembled troops. They had all heard the distant drone of a heavy bomber. The signal fires were lit and everyone scanned the sky. Suddenly, there it was, a silhouette against the moon. Deakin flashed a signal with his torch and an answering light flashed from the aircraft. But the plane flew over and passed without dropping anything and a howl of fury went up from the waiting crowd.

‘Don’t worry!’ Deakin called. ‘He was just checking he was in the right place. He’ll be back.’

They heard the engine note change as the plane banked and turned, then it came back, flying low just above the treetops. A series of parachutes bloomed in the moonlight and men ran to retrieve the packages suspended beneath them. The noise of the plane’s engines faded into the distance and all trace of the fires were extinguished, while the canisters and parcels were loaded onto mule carts to be transported back to base.

Once there, a crowd gathered round as they were opened. The canisters contained explosives and related equipment. In the parcels there were bandages but no other medical supplies. There was no food.

In Tito’s temporary headquarters Deakin joined the members of the Supreme Council for a conference.

‘We have established that air drops of supplies are feasible,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry this one didn’t bring us everything we asked for but the next one will be better. I am convinced that we can now set up a regular supply line.’

Tito regarded him for a moment, his eyes hooded. Then he nodded. ‘Very well. I accept this as a proof of your good intentions. We must look forward to co-operating further.’

Although the number of air attacks seemed to be lessening, the Partisans were still in enemy territory. The Ustashe was determined to maintain its hold on the area and there were rumours of German forces massing outside Sarajevo for a renewed attack. The only option was to keep moving.

The next town was Olovo, which was a mainly Muslim community. It was a centre for the timber trade. Many of the houses belonged to well-off timber merchants and by some miracle they had escaped destruction, but the Muslim garrison had fled and most of the houses were deserted. Tito moved into the house of the hodja , the Muslim imam, and they found it well stocked with provisions. For the first time in many weeks Alix and the members of the Supreme Council, together with the three British agents, sat down to a square meal.

Meanwhile, the Second Division had surrounded the town of Kladanj a few miles further north. Deakin had pinpointed an area near there for a new air drop and so Tito and his escort established a camp just outside the town. The drop took place as arranged and this time the canisters contained tinned food and medical supplies as well as more explosives.

They were still celebrating when a sentry shouted a challenge. A few minutes later three strangers were brought into the camp by a small escort of Bosnian Partisans. They were greeted warmly by Deakin who introduced them to Tito.

‘These three gentlemen are all Canadians, but they were born and bred in your country. This is Stevan Sirdar, this is George Diklic and this is Milan Drusic. They were parachuted to your colleagues in Eastern Bosnia shortly before we arrived.’

The three were made welcome but it was almost dawn and they had been travelling all night, so any further discussion was postponed till the morning. After breakfasting on some of the iron rations dropped the previous night, they were invited to sit down with Tito and Deakin and there was an eager exchange of information. Eastern Bosnia, the newcomers said, was now firmly in Partisan control and would provide a base for the establishment of a new Republican Free State.

Later in the day Tito moved his forces into Kladanj, which had been taken after fierce hand-to-hand fighting. It was another town that depended on the timber trade and most of the houses were built of wood. Many of them were burning and a pall of wood smoke hung over the streets. As she followed Tito and his Staff Alix was sickened by the sight of dead bodies lying where they had fallen.

A clean-up operation was started and Tito moved into one of the merchants’ houses that had escaped the worst of the destruction. Alix was helping to set up a temporary office for him when one of the men of the Escort ran in in a state of great excitement.

‘The Third Division is here! They are just entering the town!’

‘The Third Division?’ Tito asked. ‘It can’t be. They were trapped on Piva.’

‘It is, comrade,’ he was assured. ‘Comrade Djilas has brought them out.’

Tito strode from the room and Alix followed, her heart beating fast. In the town square a crowd of men and women was milling about, some cheering, others shouting questions. Members of the Escort Battalion pushed them back as a column of men marched and limped into view. Milovan Djilas was at their head. Tito hurried forward and embraced him.

‘You have survived! We thought you lost! Welcome, welcome!’

Djilas drew back, his expression grim. ‘Some of us. Not all. I have failed in the task you gave me. We could not bring our wounded out.’

Tito looked into his face. ‘You are exhausted. Come into the house.’ He raised his voice. ‘Nikola, see that these men are cared for. Find Dr Nikolis to treat their wounds.’ He took Djilas by the arm. ‘Come, we will talk inside.’

Alix was horrified by the sight of the man who had been her mentor and friend. They had all lost weight but Djilas was a walking skeleton. There was a partly healed scar running from his ear to the corner of his lips, he was filthy and his clothes were in rags. He sank into the chair that Tito set for him as if he was at the end of his strength.

Tito handed him a cup of water and his own flask of slivovitz . ‘Tell me what happened.’

Djilas took a long drink and bowed his head. ‘It was hopeless, completely hopeless. My plan was to attempt to force a way across the Tara, but the Germans had dug in all along the lip of the gorge on the far side. They had machine gun nests every few yards. The wounded in my care were the most serious cases, unable to walk unaided. There was no way we could get them across the river.’

‘So what did you do?’ Tito asked gently.

‘We hid them in the caves along our side of the river. The nurses volunteered to stay with them. We gave them what rations we had and some of them were armed…’ He broke off, his voice husky with tears. ‘We promised we would come back for them but… God knows what will become of them.’

‘But you and the men with you got out somehow,’ Tito prompted.

Djilas was silent for a moment and when he resumed his voice was devoid of all emotion. ‘We rejoined Sava Kovacevic and the Third Division. It was agreed that we should split up into small units, each bringing with them some of the walking wounded, and attempt to break through the German defences on the far side of the Sutjeska. Every man who could carry a gun was armed. We slaughtered the last of the cattle and distributed the meat.

‘I led my party across and at first we met no opposition. But they were waiting for us in the forest on the far side. They were dug in there, too, with machine gun nests commanding every track. We were out of ammunition, so we fought them hand to hand, clubbing them with our rifles, stabbing them, hitting them with rocks. I killed six of them in one nest with my knife. Somehow we got through, although I’m afraid many did not make it. A woman in my group was wounded in the thigh and could not walk. Her own husband shot her, and then killed himself.’

He came to a stop, then lifted his head as if waking from a nightmare. ‘The rest of us gathered together when we were clear and set out to join you.’

‘And Sava?’ Tito asked.

‘A hero’s death, as you would expect of him. I heard the story from his men afterwards. There was a machine gun nest on a mound ahead of them. There was no way past it. Sava called on his men to advance and led the way up the forest path. A few yards from the emplacement a German officer stepped out from a bunker with his pistol drawn. He and Sava confronted each other like champions in single combat. Both men fired at the same instant and both fell dead. His men covered his body with branches to conceal it from those coming after, lest it sap their morale. He lies there still.’

Djilas raised eyes reddened with tears to his leader. ‘I have failed you. You charged me with bringing out our wounded and I have left them to perish. I do not expect or deserve your forgiveness.’

Tito shook his head sombrely. ‘It is a great tragedy, but you are not to blame. You did everything in your power. No man can do more.’ He stood up and laid his hand on Djilas’s shoulder. ‘Now you must rest and eat. The British have been dropping tins of food for us.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I hope you like baked beans.’

Tito looked round the room. ‘Alix. This is something you can do. Find Comrade Milovan somewhere to rest and get Dr Nikolis to look at that wound.’

Alix had been reduced to tears by Djilas’s narrative, but she swallowed and rubbed her arm across her eyes.

‘I’m so very glad to see you, comrade,’ she whispered, taking him by the arm. ‘Let me show you where you can rest.’

He looked up at her and his haggard face broke into a smile. ‘My little Alix. You are still with us then? That’s good news. You are our lucky mascot.’