Page 32 of A Call to Home (Women of the Resistance #3)

Cairo

February 1944

‘Well, well. So the Russians have finally decided to recognise Tito as one of their own,’ Deakin said.

‘In what way?’ Leo asked.

‘They are sending a mission to him. They’re travelling here by way of Tehran and I’ve got to arrange their onward transport.’

‘They have certainly taken their time,’ Leo commented. ‘But I suppose we had better make them welcome when they get here.’

‘Good point. A ceremonial banquet, do you think?’

‘Why not?’ Leo laughed. ‘Any excuse for a party.’

Preparations were made for an elaborate dinner at one of Cairo’s best hotels and meanwhile Leo went with Deakin to meet the Russians when they arrived at the RAF base at Heliopolis. As soon as they left the plane it was clear that all was not well. The mission was headed by General Korneev, a veteran who had lost a leg as a result of his wounds, and he had been terribly air sick all through the journey. He was in a very bad temper and a ceremonial banquet was obviously out of the question. Instead, the party was transferred directly to the comfortable villa in the suburbs that had been set aside for them.

Next day Deakin’s expression was gloomy. ‘I signalled Maclean about the Russians’ arrival and we’ve got a problem. The airstrip I came out from has been overrun by the Huns and there isn’t another one. I’m going to have to explain that to the Russians and they won’t be pleased.’

He was right. ‘You are telling me that we have been sent here without proper arrangements being in place?’ the general growled.

‘I apologise, sir,’ Deakin replied. ‘But we have only just received the information that the airstrip has been taken.’

‘And that is the only one, in the whole of the country?’

‘The only one in Partisan hands.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘This is a ploy by your government to prevent us from contacting Tito.’

‘I assure you,’ Deakin said, ‘that my government has no interest in doing that.’

‘Then find us a way to reach him.’

Leo could see that Deakin was on the verge of losing his temper. ‘If you are so anxious to get there I could arrange for you to be parachuted in,’ he said tautly. ‘I will even drop in with you to ensure your safe arrival.’

The general glowered at him. ‘You say this – to a man with a wooden leg?’

There was a moment of silence, then Deakin said, ‘In that case, I fear there is nothing more to be done until the situation in Bosnia changes.’

Back in the office Leo said, ‘We’ll have to find some way of getting them there. Is it any good talking to RAF Brindisi and asking if they have any kind of aircraft that might be able to land without a properly prepared landing strip?’

‘I can try,’ Deakin said with a sigh, ‘but I don’t hold out much hope.’

Several days passed and General Korneev’s temper improved marginally, though he continued to suggest that the delay was a ruse dreamed up by some unidentified authority to prevent him from reaching Tito. Then one morning Deakin came into the office with a look of relief on his face.

‘We’ve cracked it! The Yanks are going to give us a couple of gliders. They reckon they can put down on any reasonably flat surface.’

‘What about the pilots?’

‘They will have to join our chaps out there for the time being.’

In Drvar, the imminent arrival of the Russian delegation was awaited with considerable excitement by Tito and his Staff, although Tito remarked ruefully to Alix, ‘Two years ago, when we really needed them, we thought they were coming. Do you remember? We waited all night at the landing ground in Montenegro but nobody arrived.’

He rode up to Bosanski Petrovo, to the meadow that had been chosen as the most suitable spot for the landing, to greet the Russians in person. When they climbed out of the gliders the waiting Partisans stared in amazement. All of them were in full dress uniform, with gleaming boots, sparkling epaulettes and chests full of medals. The contrast with the British delegation’s workmanlike battledress tunics and breeches was stark. Amazement was redoubled when the stores packed into the gliders were revealed. Instead of medical supplies or ammunition they were loaded with cases of vodka and caviar.

The newcomers were made welcome, and horses were brought to take them back to the village. The general protested that he could not be expected to ride. Surely, he exclaimed, the Partisans must have some form of mechanised transport. It was pointed out to him that the forest paths were too narrow for any vehicle and besides they were clogged with snow. It took some effort to manhandle him onto the back of a horse.

To make matters worse, Tigger took an instant dislike to the general and tried to bite him every time he came within reach. Tito, who was beginning to share the dog’s antipathy, found this amusing. ‘Russian hating dog!’ he chuckled.

Arriving at the village, where a house had been set aside for them, the general asked to be shown to his lavatory. The request was met with consternation. Modern sanitation had not yet arrived in this remote spot.

‘When Brigadier Maclean needs to go,’ he was told, ‘he goes behind the nearest tree.’

Nevertheless, to accommodate the general’s sensibilities, Tito ordered a suitable structure to be created. A large hole was dug and over it was constructed a rough shed of sawn timber and as a finishing touch the whole thing was given a coat of whitewash. Two days later a German pilot, spotting this gleaming edifice, dived low and strafed it and then, for good measure, dropped a bomb on it.

The general, finding that Maclean spoke Russian, unburdened himself.

‘What have I done to deserve to be sent here?’ he demanded. ‘I was hoping for a comfortable posting as an attaché in Washington, not to this horrible country among these Balkan peasants. Who’s in charge of them anyway? Do you command them, or do I?’

Maclean smiled grimly. ‘Well I certainly don’t. You can try, if you like, but I wouldn’t recommend it.’

It soon became evident that the Russians had arrived with no clear ideas about what they were there to do. They sat around the camp looking bored and rather bemused. Their vodka and caviar were welcome, however, at a time when weather conditions often made air drops impossible and food supplies were getting short.