Page 28 of A Call to Home (Women of the Resistance #3)

Jajce

September 1943

Alix was waiting with Tito in the courtyard of the ruined church. Earlier that morning Lieutenant Thompson had set out for Bugojno with an escort to collect Brigadier Maclean and she could tell that her boss was keyed up for this meeting. Always fastidious about his personal appearance, he had made a special effort that day. His travel-stained uniform had been sponged clean and his hair cut. The rest of the Supreme Council had spruced themselves up too.

‘This could be the turning point,’ Tito said. ‘If this man is suitably impressed it means recognition by the Allies that the National Liberation Army is the only viable force to fight the Germans in Yugoslavia. It will be the end of support for Mihailovic and the royalists and will establish us as the obvious people to take charge when the war is finally over.’

Brigadier General Maclean, when he arrived, was an impressive figure. Very tall and wearing immaculate battledress, he seemed to carry the full authority the British Army commanded. He was accompanied by five other British officers. He was welcomed, as always, with the traditional offering of bread and slivovitz and then he sat down at a long table in the courtyard of the ruined church with Tito and the Supreme Council to talk. To Tito’s delight the language he chose was Russian. Alix was less pleased. She had been used to translating for the English-speaking officers and she had fluent French and a passable understanding of German, but Russian was new to her. However, after a while she realised that since Russian and Serbo-Croat were both Slavic languages she could recognise a number of words and she made up her mind to learn as much Russian as she could. For the time being she relied on a whispered translation from Lola Ribar.

‘I want you to know,’ Maclean began, ‘that I am here as the personal representative of Prime Minister Churchill. He summed up the purpose of my mission in these words. “Find out who is killing the most Germans and help them to kill more.” From the reports I have read that seems to be you and your Partisans.’

‘That is most certainly true,’ Tito agreed, ‘and we shall soon have the means to kill even more. With the arms and equipment we are taking from the Italians I shall be able to take control of the whole of Yugoslavia, with the exception – at the moment – of Serbia, where Mihailovic and the quisling Nedic are well dug in. But to finish the job I still need more supplies from you and the Allies.’

‘That is something I want to discuss at more length,’ Maclean agreed. ‘But we can go into the details later.’

Over dinner the talk became more general. Tito wanted to know how Maclean had acquired his facility with the Russian language and the brigadier explained that he had spent several years there before the war as part of the British diplomatic corps. He had travelled widely and he and Tito swapped impressions of the country. He had been there during the notorious Stalinist purges, something which Tito had also experienced. Tito was always initially reserved with strangers but by the end of dinner it was clear that the two men had established a close rapport.

At the end of the meal Alix retired with the rest of the Staff but then she got a message instructing her to return. Tito and Maclean were alone by the fire, smoking cigars and drinking slivovitz with Tigger lying as always at his master’s feet. Tito looked up as she came in.

‘Here you are, Brigadier, this is the young woman you were asking about.’

Maclean got to his feet. ‘Am I right in thinking you are the daughter of Count and Countess Malkovic? Alexandra, is that right?’

Alix stared at him. ‘Yes, you are. But how did you know?’

‘Certain highly confidential sources in London told me there were rumours that such a person was in the company of the Partisans.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you.’

‘How do you do?’ Alix responded automatically, wondering who in London knew of her whereabouts. ‘Have you spoken to my father?’

‘No, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the count. But I spent some time with your mother in Cairo before I came out here. She asked me to give you her love and tell you she is proud of what you are doing. I have promised to let her know how you are.’

‘How is she?’ Alix asked. ‘It’s so long since I’ve seen her.’

‘So I understand,’ he said. ‘I can assure you she was well when I left. But, please, I should very much like to know how you come to be here. Do you mind telling me?’

So once again Alix had to relate her adventures in France and subsequently in Yugoslavia. When she finished Maclean sat back and regarded her with eyes that sparkled with admiration.

‘Do you know, I have always loved stories of adventure, stories like The Thirty-Nine Steps and Greenmantle by John Buchan. Have you read them? My heroes are people like Lawrence of Arabia and Bonny Prince Charlie. But now I can add my first heroine. That is the most amazing story I have ever heard.’

Alix felt herself blushing. ‘I really haven’t done anything special. Some of the women I worked with in France took much bigger risks, and the partisanska with us are incredibly brave.’

It was a comfort to have news of her mother but Alix’s main concern over the next days was the whereabouts of Steve. They had received a triumphant message describing the surrender of the Italian garrison in Split, followed by one saying that Deakin was leaving immediately to meet the brigadier, but then they heard nothing for several days. Knowing that the return journey must be made through territory not yet completely under Partisan control she began to fear the worst. Tito was in continuous discussion with Maclean about the supplies that he needed and did not seem worried by the long silence. Then a courier brought word that the commanders of Partisan brigades in the areas between Jajce and Split were proposing to hold a conference at the little town of Mrkonic-Grad and would like to meet Brigadier Maclean, so it was decided that he and Tito, with the others who had parachuted in with him, and the Supreme Council should attend.

‘You’d better come too,’ Tito said to Alix. ‘I may need you to make notes and write a report.’

The town of Mrkonic-Grad had made every effort to welcome Tito and his guests. In the Town Hall long trestle tables had been set up for a festive meal and by the time they arrived the benches alongside them were already filled with Partisan officers and local notables. Tito and Maclean were seated at the centre of the high table on a small stage, with the other British officers, all in full uniform, on one side and members of the Supreme Council on the other. The meal was about to be served when there was the sound of heavy hoofbeats and the rattle and rumble of cartwheels outside. The door opened to reveal Deakin, Wroughton and, to Alix’s immense relief, Steve. They were grubby and unshaven and their clothes, in contrast to the pristine accoutrements of the new arrivals, were creased and travel stained.

Deakin brushed some wisps of straw off his shoulders and came to attention. ‘William Deakin, reporting for duty, sir.’

Maclean came round the table and held out his hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you – at last.’

‘I apologise for not being on hand when you arrived, sir,’ Deakin said, ‘but I felt one of us should be present when the Italian surrender was signed.’

‘Quite right,’ his senior officer agreed. ‘Now, can we find room for you at the top table?’

New seating arrangements were made and in the flurry of greetings and explanations Alix slipped from her place and joined Steve.

‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.’

He put his arms round her and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry, my love. We came as fast as we could, but it wasn’t a straightforward journey.’

‘What happened?’

‘We got held up for two days in a village because the next village was occupied by Chetniks. We had to wait for them to move out before we could go any further. Then there has been the question of transport. We started out in a lorry but it couldn’t negotiate the narrow tracks so we had to switch to horses and mules and, as you probably heard, we finished the journey in a farm cart.’

‘Was it just the three of you, on your own?’

‘No. We always had an escort of some sort, but they passed us on from one village to the next and at each one a new lot took over.’

‘It was terribly risky, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you wait to come back with Koca and the main force.’

‘Deakin was very keen to get back to meet the brigadier. I see he arrived all right. What’s he like?’

‘He’s nice. A bit formal till you get to know him but very charming. He and Tito get on like a house on fire.’

‘Well, that’s good news.’

Tito rapped on the table for silence and proposed a toast to welcome the brigadier and his companions and then the meal was served, and Alix had little opportunity to spend time with Steve for the rest of the evening. But when the eating and drinking were finished and the last toast of many had been drunk she slipped away. Beds had been allocated for the chief guests but everyone else had to fend for themselves, which was no hardship on a warm late summer night. She and Steve found some bales of hay behind a cow shed and made their bed there, making love for the first time for several weeks.

Back in Jajce the following days were spent in intensive discussions between Maclean and Deakin and Maclean and Tito. It was agreed that British officers and radio operators should be dropped to all the main Partisan headquarters in different parts of the country, to coordinate the distribution of the new supplies that were promised and a list was drawn up of the arms and equipment needed. That done, Maclean departed with a strong escort for Split, from where he intended to make his way across the Adriatic to the Allied base at Bali. From there he would organise the procurement and delivery of the weapons requested but he promised to return in due course and the other members of his mission remained in Jajce.

Meanwhile, arrangements had to be made to receive the promised supplies. Now that the Partisans had control of several of the ports along the coast there should be no difficulty in shipping them across from Italy, but then they still had to be transported across the Dinaric Alps where there were no proper roads. It was felt that some more immediate means was required such as an airlift. The existing airfields at Sarajevo and Banja Luca were still under German/Croat control and Tito did not yet have the forces to attack a well-defended urban centre, so the order went out to find a place suitable for establishing a permanent airstrip that could accommodate a plane the size of a Wellington bomber. They were promised that if such a spot could be found, an RAF engineer who had the necessary expertise would be sent to them to supervise the construction.

The place chosen had to be well hidden and defensible in the event of the inevitable German attack, so it had to be somewhere remote. A suitable spot was found above the town of Glamoc, on the route between Jajce and Split. It was a broad plateau that stretched ten kilometres between the surrounding hills. It was decided that the British mission, which now included an American officer Major Linn Farish, who had been parachuted in to join them a day or two earlier, should set up a new headquarters in Livno, a town about thirty kilometres south of Glamoc. Deakin, Wroughton, Steve and Farish were to base themselves in Glamoc itself.

Steve put down his impressions in his diary.

October 16th

At first sight the place looks pretty grim. It has been fought

over repeatedly in the last few years and the Italians’ final act was to

burn it to the ground. Most of the houses are roofless and the white

walls are defaced with black streaks of soot. Amazingly, some of the

locals are still living here – well, this is their livelihood, their

only means of sustenance. This is good farming country. It’s harvest

time and they are busy reaping wheat and making a final cut of hay to

see their beasts through the winter. We have managed to find one house

that still has a roof and have moved in. We have a company of local

Partisans to guard us – a pretty ferocious-looking bunch who will

hopefully deter any passing Chets or Ustashe from disturbing us. We are

waiting for a plane from Malta bringing the RAF engineer to supervise

the building of the airstrip.

Two days later he wrote:

Life here has turned out to be quite pleasant. Walter found an old bathtub in one of the derelict houses and we dragged it over and set it up outside the front door. The locals are fascinated by the sight of us performing our ablutions and we must present a funny sight – particularly as Slim Farish insists on observing military protocol, which means keeping his cap on while he sits in the bath. In the evenings, when the peasants have finished work for the day, they join us round our campfire and we all dance the kolo, they in their colourful local costumes, the Partisans in their field grey with their rifles slung from their shoulders and us in our various uniforms. The dance is solemn, almost ritualistic, as we circle with our arms across each other’s shoulders, but it generates a great feeling of fellowship.

Some weeks later the tone of his remarks was different.

October 27th

Still no sign of the plane from Malta. One consignment of stores

has arrived on the coast and Slim Farish has gone to superintend their

transportation inland. The weather has turned cool and wet. Soon it will

be winter and I don’t see much chance of the airstrip getting built this

side of spring. Deakin has gone back to Jajce for an update on the

situation.