Page 41 of A Call to Home (Women of the Resistance #3)
Serbia
September 1944
Steve’s diary.
Procuplje, September 12th
We caught up with Koca yesterday in a village a few miles away.
The Germans are retreating and his Partisans have been following up in
their wake. Radio contact with Bari over the last days has confirmed
that the Ratweek plan is working. Belgrade has been bombed again plus
dozens of towns, including Niksic in Montenegro and Maribor in Slovenia.
Railways and bridges have been successfully demolished all over the
country. The Bulgarians have surrendered and are now fighting on our
side! It seems that they don’t much mind who they are fighting as long
as they get their rations.
Today we marched triumphantly into Procuplje, a fair-sized market town that had just been liberated. We were received as conquering heroes, with the usual offerings of fruit and wine and posies of flowers from pretty girls. There was a Liberation lunch and a Liberation dinner, with many toasts and speeches and there seems to be no shortage of food. In between the two we went shopping. The shops are full of German goods and all sorts of local produce and we stocked up with more than we needed, but it’s the first time any of us have been in a town that hasn’t already been stripped of everything by repeated conquests and reconquests. Maclean spotted an enamel bath outside a junk shop and decided to buy it. The plan is, when it’s delivered to our camp outside the town we will light a fire and put a big cauldron of water on to boil and then we can all have a hot bath – the first for many days.
September 18th
Best laid plans etc… We were not to get our bath. Just as the
water was getting hot a rider galloped into camp with the familiar shout
of ‘pokret!’ – move! The Germans have mounted a counter-attack and we
were in danger of being overrun. So we shoved our belongings into our
rucksacks and headed for the hills.
Since then we have lived a nomadic existence, moving from place to place to avoid being trapped. There are still some villages under the control of the Nedic quisling police or the Chetniks so we are heading back to the safety of the Redan. Oddly enough, it’s quite a pleasant existence. We start early, as the sun is coming up, and ride through lovely countryside. At midday we halt in a wooded grove or an orchard to eat our rations in the shade, then it’s on again until we come to a friendly village, where we are always welcomed. The people bring us fresh bread and cheese and fruit and once even a roasted suckling pig. Most of the offerings are presented by pretty girls, which pleases Maclean greatly. He obviously enjoys the attention of attractive young women and flirts with them outrageously. They respond with blushes and giggles while their elders look on benignly. Sometimes someone brings out a musical instrument of some kind and the evening ends with us all joining hands to dance the kolo. I think I could very happily live in this country.
Every evening we listen to the radio to pick up the latest news. Sometimes we can’t get the BBC but Radio Belgrade is always loud and clear. At ten o’clock every night we hear the dulcet tones of Marlene Dietrich singing ‘Lili Marlene’. I have to admit it’s a tune that is hard to get out of your head but to us it sounds like a defiant statement that Germany is still in charge. ‘Not much longer!’ we say.
September 21st
That’s the end of our gypsy existence. A radio message arrived
today from Bari. Tito has disappeared and Maclean is ordered back to
find out where he has gone. They are sending a plane to pick us up.
Maclean is furious and mutters darkly about Tito’s ingratitude after all
we’ve done for him, and I must say I can see his point. We are now faced
with an all-night trek to reach the airstrip where we landed a month
ago.
Moscow. September 23rd, 1944
Alix fidgeted restlessly and longed for something to read, anything to relieve the boredom of waiting for the meeting in the next room to end. Tito had brought her with him to perform her usual function of taking notes and preparing reports, but Stalin had refused to allow her access to his study, where the discussions were taking place, so she was condemned to wait in this ante-room with nothing to do. Her only companion was Tigger, who had also been refused entry to the inner sanctum, but separated from his master he was snappish and spent his time lying just outside the door with his nose pressed to the crack at the bottom.
It had been exciting at first, of course. She had never expected to see Moscow and the vast expanse of Red Square, and the colourful architecture of St Basil’s Cathedral had made a lasting impression. But she found the high walls of the Kremlin intimidating and the ordinary people she saw in the streets seemed drab and depressed as they trudged the pavements or stood in long queues. It was not a city she felt she wanted to spend time in.
At last, there was movement from the inner room and Djilas came out.
‘Tito sent me to brief you on progress so you can start writing your report,’ he said, sitting down beside her.
‘How is it going?’ she asked.
He pursed his lips. ‘I would describe the atmosphere as cool. Tito has never forgiven Stalin for not sending him the support he needed in the early days and Stalin has not forgotten a rather terse telegram Tito sent suggesting that if he was not prepared to help us he should at least not get in our way. But we are making progress, nonetheless. The main point at issue is how far Russian troops should penetrate Yugoslavia and how long they should stay. But I think some agreement is possible there.’
Later, back in the apartment they had been allotted for their stay, Tito expanded on that point.
‘Comrade Stalin has agreed with me that once Belgrade has fallen his troops will move on to deal with the Germans in Hungary and leave our National Liberation Army in control of Yugoslavia.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Alix asked.
‘Yes, it deals with the most important matter. But there is another where we disagree radically. Stalin thinks I should reinstate King Peter.’
‘Oh?’ Alix felt a flicker of excitement. In spite of her admiration for Tito and her belief that it would be best for the country if he were in charge, she still felt a residual loyalty to the young king, and she knew it would mean a great deal to her father. ‘So do you think that’s possible?’
‘Totally impossible!’ Tito growled. ‘I pointed out that there is no love for the royal house and the king himself is seen in many quarters as a traitor.’
‘So what did Stalin say to that?’ Alix asked, deflated.
‘He recommended that I should bring him back for a while and then quietly slip a knife between his ribs.’
Alix gasped. ‘That’s a dreadful thing to say.’
Tito smiled grimly. ‘Don’t worry, it isn’t going to happen. Now, we need to get ready to leave. We are going home.’
‘Back to Vis?’ Alix asked.
‘No. Somewhere much closer to the action. The Red Army is pushing in across the Danube north of Belgrade and our men are pressing in from the opposite direction. It cannot be long before the city falls and I intend to be there when it does.’
Valjevo, Serbia. September and October 1944
Steve’s diary.
September 28th
Well, we’re back in Serbia. The trail was cold as far as Tito was
concerned and we couldn’t get any information about his whereabouts on
Vis. Most of his senior staff have vanished too and those who were left
either couldn’t or wouldn’t tell us anything. All we were able to
establish is that a Russian aircraft made an unscheduled landing on the
night of September 21st and took off again, presumably with him on
board. It seems likely that he has come back to the mainland to direct
operations so Maclean decided to come back here. There is a lot of bad
feeling about his sudden flit. How are we expected to coordinate our
activities with the Partisans if we can’t contact him?
This time, as well as supplies, a jeep was dropped with us. A great relief! I have had enough of jolting about on horseback.
Valjevo fell to the First Division under Peko Dapcevic a few days ago after a pretty tough battle by all accounts. The Germans had decided to hold it at all costs and it was only the appearance of a couple of US Beaufighters that fired rockets into the fortified barracks that finally decided it. It’s the biggest town we have been in so far and the shops are well stocked with German goods. There is even a restaurant.
September 30th
Some of Tito’s senior officers have started showing up here.
Rankovic and Jovanovic among them. Maclean took up the question of
Tito’s whereabouts with Rankovic and found out that he is in touch with
him by radio. He is in the Vojvodina, an area north of Belgrade and very
close to the front line of the Russian advance. Maclean asked Rankovic
to send a signal to him and composed a pretty stiff one, telling him how
much damage his disappearance has done to relations. We got an answer in
very friendly terms saying he hopes we shall meet again soon, but I
reckon it will be a long time before we trust him as we did
before.
October 3rd
The Red Army has crossed the Danube and is advancing on Belgrade
from the north and it is confirmed that the First Division under
Dapcevic is to spearhead the Partisan attack from the south-west. There
has been a massive supply drop by the RAF of arms and
ammunition.
Last night, for the first time, we did not hear ‘Lili Marlene’ on the radio. ‘She’s run away,’ we said.
October 9th
We’ve moved on to Arandjelovac. Easy going, now we have the jeep.
It used to be a favourite spa town but it’s in a sorry state right now
with all the smart hotels blasted and blackened and the ornamental
gardens trampled. We found a broken pipe spewing out the famous mineral
water so we filled our water bottles. The population has welcomed us
with the usual offerings and filled the jeep with flowers.
October 12th
We have acquired a cook. He used to be the head chef to the
British Legation in Belgrade and he came to offer us his services. That
guy can certainly cook! I’ve never eaten such wonderful food. The meat
is mostly pork, as that is what Serbia is famous for, but he finds a
dozen different ways of serving it, all of them delicious. In addition
he makes fantastic soups, omelettes and pastries. After so many months
when any food was hard to come by we are being gluttons. I shall soon be
too fat to fit into my uniform. The only snag is he is a drinker and by
the end of the day is usually hardly able to stand up.