Page 39 of A Call to Home (Women of the Resistance #3)

Vis

August 1944

Steve was waiting for Alix when she came down from the cave.

‘Maclean’s leaving,’ he told her.

‘Oh, when – and why?’

‘He wants to find out what is going on in Serbia. And I’ve got to go with him.’

Alix sat down on a rocky ledge. The announcement hit her like an unexpected slap.

‘Do you have to?’

‘’Fraid so. Don’t forget, I’m not a Partisan, I’m a serving officer of the RAF and he’s my CO. I’ve got to obey orders.’

She nodded, recovering her breath. ‘Yes, of course. It’s just… there is still fighting going on over there. It’s easy to forget that here. I wish you weren’t going back to that.’

‘It shouldn’t be anything like it was before we left,’ he said. ‘The Partisans have got the upper hand practically everywhere. I’ll be safe enough.’

‘When will you be back?’

He lifted his shoulders. ‘Who knows? It’s up to Maclean. But things are moving fast. It could all be over quite soon.’

‘It? Do you mean the war?’

‘Well, our bit of it, anyway.’

She felt for his hand. ‘Whatever happens, you will come back, won’t you? I mean, you won’t just disappear…’

He turned to gaze at her. ‘Do you really believe I might do that?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just so easy to… to lose touch, when everything is in upheaval like this.’

He gripped her hand . ‘Alix, I promise you, whatever happens I will stay in touch. Somehow I’ll find a way to get back to you. I swear it!’

Maclean came up to the cave next morning to explain his plans to Tito.

‘The Russians are pushing south and west all the time. Before long they will be able to isolate the German armies in Yugoslavia and Albania from Berlin. The Boches are going to be desperate to pull their troops out before that happens. Now, you might think that is the best thing that can happen for Yugoslavia, but from our point of view, I mean the Allies, the last thing we want is several divisions of German troops and armour coming to reinforce their forces in northern Europe. What I am asking is for your Partisans to continue the fight, to do everything in their power to disrupt the evacuation. Do I have your backing for that?’

‘We will fight until there is not a single German left on our soil,’ Tito growled. ‘And the more dead Germans they leave behind them the better. What are the Allies going to do?’

‘We are calling it Operation Ratweek. To start with, there will be a massive bombing campaign against enemy concentrations, wherever they may be. Coordinated with that I would ask that all Partisan units undertake a campaign of sabotage directed at the roads and railways the enemy will need to use. If I am right in my assessment of the situation, we may be in Belgrade in a matter of weeks.’

‘Let us hope you are right,’ Tito said. ‘What exactly are your plans?’

‘First,’ Maclean replied, ‘we need to consider where your troops are concentrated and who is best placed for the work we need to do.’

For some time he and Tito pored over a map showing the positions of Partisan divisions according to the latest intelligence. Every headquarters now had a British intelligence officer embedded with them and there was frequent radio contact, so the map was regularly updated. By the end of the day it had been divided into sectors and a Partisan commander and his British counterpart were made responsible for the destruction of targets in their area.

‘I can arrange for extra explosives to be dropped where they are needed,’ Maclean promised. ‘And any target too difficult or too well protected will be taken out by the RAF. The most critical target is the Belgrade–Salonika railway, which the Germans will need to bring back their troops from Greece and Albania. That is in Serbia and, as you know, it is not an area where your people have been particularly strong.’

‘That is changing…’ Tito interrupted. ‘I have recently sent Koca Popovic to take charge of our men there.’

‘Quite so. I should like to go and join him at his HQ, to coordinate operations in that area, if you are agreeable.’

‘I shall signal him to expect your arrival,’ Tito said.

Within days, a signal was received from Koca telling them that the Partisans had taken control of an area round the town of Leskovac and that there was a possible landing strip nearby. Plans were made for Maclean and his party, including Steve as radio operator, to fly as soon as possible.

Alix saw them off as the sun was setting on the chosen day. She had made up her mind not to show any weakness, but she could not hide her tears as she hugged Steve.

‘Take care of yourself, my darling,’ she whispered, knowing as she said it that it was the futile request made by thousands of women seeing their loved ones off to war. But it seemed necessary to say it just the same.

Serbia. September 1944

Steve was determined to keep up his diary, scribbling away in any spare moments.

September 2nd, Bojnik

We flew in last night, not a very comfortable experience! It was

pitch dark and the plane had to circle round a number of times before we

saw the signal fires and the landing was anything but smooth. We got

down, however, and the plane was immediately reloaded with wounded

Partisans who were waiting for us. The next phase of the operation was

even less comfortable. Horses were brought and the radio set was

strapped onto a pack pony and we set off, much faster than I would have

liked. I’ve never been much of a horseman and this ride put all the

skills I have learned to the test. We went up hills and down into steep

valleys on rough paths where I thought my horse was going to stumble and

throw me at any moment. It didn’t help that the saddle was one that had

been captured from the Germans and was much too big for the horse, so it

constantly threatened to slip round under its belly, or even on the

steeper descents over its head.

We reached the Partisan camp in a woodland clearing eventually but everyone except the sentries was asleep. It was raining, so we made improvised tents from the silk of our parachutes and the lower branches of trees, spread our sleeping bags and lay down. I didn’t expect to sleep but it’s amazing how the months of camping out in all sorts of conditions inures you to all discomfort and I was soon unconscious.

Woke this a.m. to very different conditions. The rain had stopped, the sun was shining and the scene we looked out on was beautiful. I didn’t realise how different Serbia is from the parts of the country where I’ve been for the past year. By contrast with the rugged mountains of Bosnia and the barren hillsides of Dalmatia, Serbia is the Garden of Eden. Behind us the Radan mountain rose into the sky but ahead we looked out over gently sloping hills to a panorama of green pastures and golden fields of maize, dotted with little villages of white-washed houses, each with its onion-domed church. I can understand why Alix feels so homesick for it.

The British liaison officer with the Partisans here is John Henniker-Major and he’s had a hard time since he was dropped in April. The Partisans here haven’t had the support from the Allies that their brothers in Bosnia have had. All supplies until recently were dropped to the Chetniks, so they have had to fend for themselves with very little local help. However, since the Brits changed their minds and decided to support Tito, the situation here has been reversed and now the locals have seen that the Partisans are going to be the top dogs from now on and volunteers have been flooding in. There was a queue of them waiting to sign up this morning. Some are deserters from the Chetniks, some are on the run from the German authorities, but a lot are just young men from the villages who see a chance of getting their own back on the people who have oppressed them for three years.

Koca Popovic is encamped close by with the First Proletarian Division so Maclean and he have been in close conclave over future plans to disrupt the German withdrawal. At the moment it seems the Boches are sitting tight but the idea is that when they decide to move they will find the rail system completely disrupted by a combination of Allied bombing and Partisan sabotage.

September 5th

Yesterday we rode to join the Partisan brigade responsible for

attacking the railway line around Lescovac. Their camp was full of

Bulgarian prisoners, men who had been fighting on the German side all

through the war. The Partisan commander, a man with a long, flowing

moustache that had earned him the nickname of Whiskers, told us that

they had surrendered more easily than he expected, perhaps because they

had lost faith in their Nazi allies.

This morning they led us through some lovely countryside, passing orchards heavy with apples and pears. We came to a tiny hamlet on a hillside overlooking the town of Lescovac. There was still some fighting going on for domination of a nearby ridge but apart from that the whole area was under Partisan control. The plan is for them to carry out a series of sabotage attacks after dark on the Belgrade–Nils railway line that runs through the town.

September 6th

Woke up to a fine, clear morning. The fighting of last night was

over and the Partisans had cleared the ridge of German troops. Set up

the radio and almost immediately received an urgent message. Air

reconnaissance reports showed a considerable concentration of enemy

troops and armour in Leskovac. An immediate air strike has been called

in and a force of American Flying Fortresses will carry out a raid at

eleven thirty.

Later: We waited on the hillside looking down at the town. It was

a beautiful morning, hot sun, insects buzzing in the cornfield, perfect

peace. I tried not to think about the ordinary people going about their

business in the streets of the city below us. Eleven thirty came, with

no sign of the Forts, then suddenly we heard the drone of engines and we

looked up to see row upon row of bombers, glinting in the sunlight. They

were overhead, then going past, and as we watched the whole town seemed

to rise up and disintegrate. Then we heard the roar of the explosions

and the scene was obscured by a great pall of smoke. Above us, the

planes were already just silver dots in the distance. Nobody cheered. We

turned away in silence. It is one thing to study maps and plan these

things. Quite another to see them carried out.

September 7th

Last night we crept down to a point close to the railway line a

mile or so north of the town. The town itself was still burning and the

whole sky was lit up by the flames. The line was protected by concrete

pill boxes at regular intervals, housing men with machine guns. Suddenly

firing broke out and we saw tracer bullets whizzing in both directions,

from and towards the pillboxes. Then came the thump of mortars as the

Partisans sought to silence them. Undercover of all this, groups of men

loaded with explosives crept down to the line to set their charges and

very soon explosions went off up and down the line, destroying small

bridges and culverts. Once the fire from the pill boxes had been

silenced, the Partisans set to work ripping up the rails and stacking

the sleepers to make a huge bonfire. It will be a long time before that

stretch of line will be usable again, which means that enemy troops

being recalled from Greece will have to go by road or by sea. As we

walked away I looked back and saw a ring of Partisans dancing a

triumphant kolo round the bonfire of sleepers.