Page 19 of A Call to Home (Women of the Resistance #3)
Cairo
July 1943
Leo gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth to smother the equally balanced impulses to laugh and weep. ‘Alix safe!’ The two words repeated themselves over and over in her mind.
She turned her thoughts to the rest of the message and her temporary euphoria subsided. The urgent plea for food and medical supplies told its own story. Alix might be safe for now, but it was clear that safety was only a relative term. Deakin’s reports of heavy fighting could not be ignored.
She carried the latest message through to Basil Davidson’s office. When he had read it he said, ‘It sounds as though the Partisans are taking a much more active stand against the Huns than the Chetniks. Intelligence coming out of London suggests their casualties are a great deal higher than Mihailovic’s and on that basis alone we can deduce that the Germans regard them as a greater threat than the Chetniks.’
His words sent a new chill of fear through Leo’s gut but she tried to ignore it. ‘How does London know that?’
‘I don’t know,’ he conceded, ‘but I get the impression that there’s some new source of information we are not being made privy to. Anyway, the word coming down the line is that we should provide as much support as possible. To that end I am proposing to reinforce Deakin’s mission with some more personnel.’
‘Right. Who shall we send?’ Leo asked.
‘They are proposing sabotage attacks on the railways. We can drop more explosives, but I don’t know how much expertise in that field they have, so I thought it would be a good idea to send Jim Mackay for one. He’s a lieutenant with the sappers so he knows his stuff. Then there’s Tommy Thompson, his dad worked for the Vacuum Oil Company in Zagreb and he went to school there, so he knows the language. And Robert Crozier as an extra WT operator. What do you think?’
‘Well, they have all done their parachute training and they’ve been fully briefed, as far as we can within the limits of our knowledge,’ Leo said. ‘I think they would make a good team.’
‘Okay. That’s decided then. Will you call them in and bring them up to speed?’
‘Of course. Are we still backing Mihailovic?’ Leo asked. ‘Or have we given up on him completely?’
‘Not yet. Bailey and Hudson are still with him, trying to push him to do something positive. And it seems the Yanks are still backing him. I hear on the grapevine that they are putting together a mission of their own to send out.’
‘Interesting,’ Leo commented. ‘But I suppose it’s not surprising. Their press has built him up to be a real hero. They can’t let it be known that their idol has feet of clay. Added to which, the Americans are terrified of communism. They would much rather see Mihailovic in charge at the end of the war.’
‘Well,’ he looked at her quizzically, ‘wouldn’t you?’
Leo hesitated. ‘I’d like to see the king restored, which is obviously what would happen if Mihailovic was in charge. But I must admit the reports we’ve had from Bailey about his pan-Serb ideals and his attempt to get rid of all the Croats and Muslims make me wonder if he’s the right man. I think it would be the end of Yugoslavia as a nation.’
‘You could be right,’ Davidson agreed. ‘But what matters right now is getting rid of the Nazis and for that purpose it seems Tito is our man.’
Leo’s first thought when she had a moment’s leisure was that she should give Sasha the news about Alix. Letters took far too long to go between them so she tried to telephone, but the lines were jammed with official calls going between the headquarters of the various military units and their superiors in London and she could not get through. In the end, she had to settle for a carefully worded telegram.
Information received. Daughter unharmed. Leo.
She did not use the word ‘safe’. It seemed too much like giving a hostage to fortune.
Sasha’s letter reached her two days later, obviously posted before he could have read her telegram. After the usual greetings and assurances that he was safe and well he went on:
We have a real problem here with Peter. I told you a while ago that he had fallen in love with Princess Alexandra of Greece. Now he has insisted on announcing their engagement. Of course, it is completely contrary to established custom in Serbia for a leader to think of marrying while their country is at war and the idea that their king is conducting a romance in the safety of London while his people are suffering is unacceptable. I am told by the government in exile that General Mihailovic has said that public opinion in Serbia is very hostile to the idea. PM Jovanovic voiced his objections and in retaliation Peter has dismissed him. I have tried to talk sense into the boy but he is madly in love and can’t seem to understand how his action is reducing support for the monarchy just when it is vital to bolster it in the face of the communist threat. All we can do is try to postpone the actual marriage until the war is over. Of course, I can understand Peter’s impatience. It’s only natural to want to be with the girl he loves, but he needs to understand that war demands self-sacrifice and he has had life very easy compared with his people. Sadly, whatever influence I may once have had over him seems to have been lost.
The tone of the letter saddened Leo. She knew that her husband cared deeply for the young king, that in some ways he had taken the place of the son she had been unable to give him, and she knew how distressed he must be, not only by the political implications of Peter’s intransigence but also by the realisation that the bond between them was not as strong as it had once been. She wrote back in the most encouraging terms she could think of, suggesting that this could be a temporary breach and that soon Peter would realise how much he owed to Sasha for his unflinching support over the years since his real father was assassinated. But she knew too that Peter could be very headstrong and she doubted that he could be dissuaded for long from his desire to marry.
On the way from Rustum Buildings back to Gezira Island the bus was held up more often than usual by traffic. Cairo was seething with troops in the uniforms of half a dozen countries and the usual traffic chaos was compounded by military lorries, jeeps and the staff cars of officers. Leo was puzzled by their presence in such numbers now the battle for North Africa was over and the German and Italian troops had been driven out. When she finally got back to the houseboat she showered and changed and then strolled over to the sporting club for tea on the terrace. She was joined shortly by a captain in the Northumberland Infantry with whom she had chatted once or twice before while he was on leave.
‘This will have to be the last of our pleasant little chats, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘My leave is up tomorrow.’
‘So where is your regiment now?’ she asked.
‘Out there in the desert for now.’
‘Then will you be going home?’
‘No such luck! There’s a big flap on. Troops being shipped in from all over.’
Leo considered this information. ‘So does this mean a big operation is in the offing?’
He laid a finger along his nose in a conspiratorial gesture. ‘Not for me to say. But we’re not out there to have a picnic.’
Walking back to the houseboat Leo pondered the implications of his remark. It must mean that a force was being assembled for an invasion of Europe, a Second Front opening in the war. But where? Italy? Greece? Or could the speculation that the target would be somewhere on the coast of Yugoslavia be correct? If so, what would that mean for the Partisans and the Chetniks? What would it mean for Alix?