PART FOUR
31
On Wednesday 30 August 1944 Ralph, Les, and the men in their section made their preparations, away from the prying eyes of fellow prisoners. Ralph stashed a razor blade and a toothbrush in his hip pocket. Expecting cold nights, he wore layers of wool beneath his uniform, thick socks, and heavy boots. The others dressed the same. It could be a tricky bluff – eight men in heavy gear among a lightly clad crew on a hot day – but being out at night in the forest almost naked had no appeal.
The team assembled at 06.30 for a headcount and set off. Marching to the station, the guards were their usual docile selves. The carriages pulled in, and everyone boarded. The train puffed out of the station, clattered across the Drava river bridge. Ralph looked across the town that had been his home of sorts for the past three years. ‘Ta-ta, Marburg. See you later.’
It was a crisp morning in the shade of the river valley; the sun had not yet cleared the southern edge of the hills. Stopping at the siding at Ruše, the train dropped off ‘Shorty’ Humm, and clattered off to the worksite. At Ožbalt, the carriage doors opened, and prisoners, guards, and foremen began their routine. Ralph and his fellows were soon sweating buckets. An observant man would have wondered why they had not changed into shorts, but they were not challenged. Leslie made his morning tea round. No sign of any Partisans. Then a second tea run; nothing. Ralph was getting twitchy when, with Shorty well on the way with lunch, Leslie went to brew a third lot of tea.
To his profound relief, Anton was there to meet him. The spy looked as if he meant business. ‘Leslie, we have seized Lovrenc, over the hills from here. We’ll hold it a short time and withdraw before the Germans can counter-attack. Meet me at the chestnut tree west of the cottage, 16.00.’1 Leslie nodded and returned to the railway.
Did Anton mean he’d be the only one there? Had the promised Partisan raid been cancelled? Les had not the time nor privacy to convey his concerns to Ralph; he passed Anton’s message along. As the afternoon wore on, each conspirator fretted about how to slip away. Go without a word? Take a toilet or cigarette break? All eight couldn’t go to piss at once – it would attract attention.
As 16.00 approached, Ralph saw Len had come up with his solution. Dry heaving, staggering, and making a great show of being ill, Len lay down in the shade near a thicket. Kit and Andy were grasping sheets of paper and moving off for a toilet break. Les gathered his pots and went up the hill to prepare the afternoon tea. Ralph couldn’t make out Bob, Griff, or Phil. Deciding on stealth, he moved to retrieve his haversack and walk away without a word. But as Ralph pulled his bag from the thicket, he glanced to the left and saw a guard moving down the line. Ralph froze, but his wits returned in time to realize it was Gustl bearing down on him. Ralph threw his haversack over his shoulder, adjusted his hat and faked his best smile.
‘Gustl, old boy, at the house up there, there are plenty of eggs,’ Ralph said, gesturing up the hill. ‘I’m on my way to do a little business to get some eggs for tea. Stick around, and I’ll cut you in for a couple, okay? Have a smoke while you’re waiting. I’ll be back before you’ve finished them.’ Ralph grabbed Gustl’s hand and palmed an open packet of British Capstan cigarettes, two left in the pack.
Gustl’s suspicion turned to satisfaction. Two cigarettes and some eggs for sitting around for fifteen minutes? It was an outstanding deal. He lit up. ‘Danke schön!’2
Ralph felt relief but also guilt at taking advantage of this gentle soul. He suppressed the thought and turned into the forest. He dared not look back. If Gustl saw any of the others, he would guess, and it would all be over.
Ralph arrived by the chestnut tree at 16.00. Les, Bob, Griff, Kit, Andy, and Len had already got there. Anton was with them. There was no Partisan force. Ralph shot an exasperated look at Leslie. Then he realized they were a man short. ‘Hang on . . . Where’s Phil?’ The group shuffled with nerves.
‘He was stuck on the other end of the track. A guard was chatting his ear off,’ said Len.3 Phil would be hard-pressed to prise himself away from the conversation.
Anton guessed what was being said and forbade any delay. ‘We have to go. Now.’
The group set off, making a straight ascent south, up a steep forest path. Leslie and Ralph were nervous. This whole plot didn’t seem so bright now. If the Partisans were unable to pull off the rescue of the whole crew, had they been weakened? Was there any way the Partisans could get even the seven of them home? Would they be expected to take up arms and fight as Partisans? Neither Ralph, Leslie, nor most of the others had been combat troops in Greece. All of them had been without military discipline for three years. Ralph especially had been traumatized by the transit camps, as well as by the genocide of the Soviet prisoners. His nerves were unlikely to withstand combat.
All these thoughts rattled around in Ralph’s head as the small column made its way south. Their destination was known to the Germans as Sankt Lorenzen am Bachern, a market town atop a plateau in Pohorje. It had no railway connection and only a single road leading up from the Drava. Anton was not following the road but discreet forest trails. Dense cover created ample shade, but in their thick garments they were still overheating. They begged Anton to halt to allow a change. Their guide relented, and the seven changed into summer clothes.4 Without the weight of several layers, some of the anxiety left; they were free men. Ralph felt the mountain air in his lungs and breathed deep. At last, he was working against the Reich, not for it.
Anton’s physique was lean and his pace tireless. The escapees, on the other hand, well-practised at heavy lifting though they were, were not fit for this sort of exercise. Anton urged them on, hoping to make their destination before darkness fell. Passwords and sentries would be easier if all parties could see each other: a nervous sentry’s trigger finger was dangerous in the dark. As the sun began to sink, they pressed on. On their flanks, they spied small meadows dotted with farmhouses. Anton took care to avoid the grass and stick to the woods. Ralph glanced at his pilfered map, feeling sure they were nearing the goal. Stepping over a small stream, the escapees froze as a young man in German uniform stepped into their path.