The Secret Rescue (19 page)

Along with Bell’s mules were another two mules Duffy had procured so the Americans whose shoes were showing wear could take turns riding them. The mule skinners were coming along to ensure that the animals were returned to them when the British needed fresh ones. Finding mules was never an easy task, and Duffy despised it. “I would prefer running into Germans rather than go through the tortuous hours I spent in haggling for mules,” he wrote. “Generally, on the question of mules, the only answer I used to receive was ‘S’ka [Mushka]!’ (No mules). I advise anyone visiting Albania that the first word to learn is the counter to ‘S’ka.’ ” Duffy wasn’t alone in his frustration with haggling. Many other SOE personnel also complained of bitter negotiating and price gouging. One wireless operator was particularly disgusted when a man tried to charge the mission for having burned the grass at a drop zone with its signal fires.

Though the partisan commandant of the area had earlier asked Duffy to take along a battalion of partisans with the Americans, he had wisely declined. The battalion, which had just arrived from Berat, was led by a man who later deserted the partisans and joined the BK. “After being in Albania, one certainly does acquire an increased sense of intuition and also suspicion,” Duffy wrote. He was not only suspicious of the battalions’ sudden appearance, he also believed that it had taken the Americans so long to find the British because the partisans “had taken the party on a propaganda and goodwill tour.” He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

When they left that cold morning, Duffy “looked back and surveyed a seething chain of American army personnel, 27 in all, trudging through snow a foot deep.” As they made their way, he rested an MP40 against his shoulder while he held the barrel with one hand. A popular German submachine gun, the MP40 was also called a Schmeisser and was similar to the tommy guns issued to Allied forces, yet it was lighter, which caused some Allied soldiers to ditch their tommy guns for them.

Duffy led the group for a while, then fell back so he could keep track of everyone. “Sometimes he would stand on the side of the trail as we passed by and looked us over,” Jens wrote. “We used to… say [Duffy] is counting his chickens.” Regardless of his position, he always seemed to have his hand clasped on the barrel of the gun and the body of it resting against his shoulder.

Bell had chosen a Sten gun, one of the cheaply and simply made submachine guns the British started to produce to increase their store of weapons when the threat of a German invasion appeared. Though soldiers both revered and hated the gun and gave it a variety of nicknames, including the “Dime-store Tommy,” “Stench Gun,” “Woolworth’s Special,” and “Plumber’s Nightmare,” their low production cost and simple design made them a popular choice for the Allies to give to resistance groups. Their tendency to fire if dropped, however, later cost one SOE officer working in Italy his life. When Bell later sprained his ankle while trying to load one of the mules, Hayes carried his gun to help him, unaware of its notorious reputation for accidentally discharging. Despite the injured ankle, Bell, like Shumway, who was still limping from being hurt in the crash landing, carried on the best he could and never complained.

The snow soon began to melt and the sun warmed them. By late morning, they passed through a village, thought to be Voskopojë, which was known for its domed churches and their priceless vibrant frescoes. Much of the village had just been destroyed by the Germans, and the smell of smoke overpowered them. Many of the buildings had been burned, and the remaining stone rubble was still warm. The only people they saw were women and small children, and Duffy told the Americans that some of the boys and men had fled before the Germans arrived—those who hadn’t had been shot. With destruction and death all around them, they hurried through the village and continued walking until they came to their next stop for the night, Gjegjovicë. The enlisted men were all quartered in the same house, and as they tried to sleep, Owen announced it was his twenty-first birthday. “It’s a hell of a place to spend your birthday,” he said.

Eldridge, the medic who had taken the rock from the imam, had vomited throughout the night and was still sick the next morning. He looked so deathly ill that the others insisted he ride one of the mules until they reached their destination for the day. Some of the enlisted men wondered if the Albanian’s curse had affected Eldridge more than he’d let on, but none of them felt well. The cold weather, continued hunger, lice, and the GIs were taking their toll on everyone, and they were tired from the constant walking and the endless search for clean water to refill the few canteens they still had. Those who’d lost their canteens shared with the others. Their only comfort now was a single roll of toilet paper given to them by the British at Krushovë and dubbed “the piano roll,” after the roll of paper used on a self-playing piano. They longed for the everyday necessities they had once taken for granted, and many constantly thought of food. Hayes’s dreams were now filled with mashed-potato pie and other homemade dishes he craved.

That night Duffy split the group between two villages, Panarit and possibly Manëz, after talking it over with one of the village councils for roughly an hour. Dividing the group would become a frequent routine with Duffy and lessened the burden on each village. Though the enlisted men were as exhausted as the others who were able to settle into their assigned quarters, a partisan guided them for another thirty or so minutes along the trail to the village where they would stay. As they made their way, they passed a group of men walking next to a woman dressed in bright, colorful clothing and makeup and riding a mule. No other woman they had seen in Albania had been dressed so elaborately and they wondered who she was.

They found out the next morning when the party met again. Stefa told them that the gunshots that had repeatedly woken them through the night were in celebration of a wedding, and the men had passed the bride. Most marriages in Albania at the time were arranged, and those who fell in love with someone else often paid a heavy price if they pursued it. Brig. Davies had heard the story of a young couple in love whose families were involved in a blood feud in which only a death could avenge a wrong, whether real or perceived. The couple eloped and ran away to live, but bad weather and a lack of food forced them to return to their village. When they came back, they had hoped to be greeted with happiness. Instead, the fathers each shot their own child. Some women in the northern mountains of the country who wanted to avoid an arranged marriage chose to become “sworn virgins,” which required them to live as men for the rest of their lives.

Eldridge was still so sick that as they made their way along the trail that day, people took turns walking beside him on the mule to make sure he didn’t fall off. Around midday they reached a swift section of the swollen Osum River that was about fifty feet wide. The current was too powerful for anyone to wade across, and the water was deep enough that it reached the mules’ bellies when they entered it. Duffy sent Bell and his radio equipment over first, followed by some of the mule skinners who were able to get the animals to backtrack across the river to pick up more of the party. When it was Eldridge’s turn, they all watched in fear. If he fell over, the river would quickly sweep him away. To everyone’s relief, the weakened medic held on tightly to the mule and made it safely to the other side.

With the nurses and Eldridge across, Duffy ventured ahead, leaving behind the medics and some of the mule skinners. Hayes and Abbott were the last to cross, and when they got to the other side, they had to scramble to catch up with the others on the trail. They finally found them an hour later at the next village, Gostinckë, where the locals were on guard after a partisan commander had stolen more than a thousand sheep belonging to the BK in the past week. Despite their fears of a reprisal, the villagers welcomed the Americans into their homes.

When the party headed out the following morning, they took a different route than Duffy had originally planned, to avoid BK territory. His interpreter refused to go near it, and Duffy thought traveling “at this stage without an English speaking Albanian threatened to be no fun.” The new course required them to pass by large numbers of partisans who were gathering on the hills opposite from where the BK forces were positioned. Concerned that fighting would break out at any moment, Duffy rushed the group through the area.

Despite their continued difficulties and the threats surrounding them, a few of the nurses insisted on stopping on the trail to reapply their makeup before they entered a new village. The delays irritated some of the other nurses who had all kept up with the men trudging up and down the mountainsides over the many weeks, and most of the medics were baffled by it. A few of the nurses had worn makeup periodically on the journey, but none had held up the group to do so before they met the British. Duffy noted that the nurses “always managed to create an impression, either entering or leaving a village. For years to come I feel sure that certain inhabitants of Albania will never forget the ‘Çupke Amerikane’ (American girls), who always managed to produce the necessary cosmetics and render the necessary repairs. They used to leave the people non-plussed, including, I might add, myself; after all they were in enemy occupied territory. Amazing! Much too deep for me as a soldier.”

The hours passed as the party continued walking, and Eldridge once again had to ride one of the mules. A few of the nurses and medics whose shoes were in the worst shape also hitched occasional rides. Hayes preferred to walk, though he wasn’t sure his right shoe would hold out much longer. After they had first met the British, one of the nurses had put his shoes too close to the fire to help them dry, and the sole of one had cracked. Though she had been trying to help, her mistake was one he was reminded of daily; and, now, whenever he took off his shoes, he tied the laces and looped them around his neck so nothing else could happen to them.

As they plodded along that afternoon, they saw someone they never expected to see again: Gina, the partisan whom they had last seen in Berat before the German attack, along with some of his men. He had shaved off his mustache, which made him look much younger, and it took the Americans a few moments to realize who he was. He first walked over to Baggs, who had given him the machine gun as a parting gift the last time they’d been together, and asked the copilot if he had any more ammunition. Baggs shrugged his shoulders and told him he had nothing left. Gina quickly rallied from his disappointment and walked along the line of Americans and greeted each one. The party immediately asked him if he’d heard anything about the three missing nurses, but he told them he had been in Elbasan and had not yet returned to Berat. When he revealed it had taken his group of men just five days to find them, the Americans were astounded that he could track them so quickly, particularly after their long journey.

With Gina now traveling with them, they continued on their course while hearing repeated rumors of an Allied invasion at Vlorë and Durrës, the two chief ports on the coast. The rumors, Duffy wrote, had made “the two pilots slightly light-headed. They did think their walking days were over.” He was much more skeptical, however, because he’d heard the same rumors seven times over the past months. “I immediately rebuked them severely, pointing out that they, like myself, were part of an organized force, namely the English and American army and not party to a rabble they had experienced in this country.” When they arrived at the next village, Malind, that evening, Duffy and Bell sent a message to SOE headquarters as they had promised the pilots, though they knew what the answer would be. “Have heard persistent rumours of invasion
STOP
Yanks wish to hear as soon as possible any change in previous plan.”

Rain and cold followed them for their roughly four-hour journey the next day to the village of Odriçan. It was a short day of walking for the party, and Duffy was glad for it because he and Bell needed to charge the set’s batteries. As Duffy and Bell had expected, they received a message from Cairo hours later that the invasion was just a rumor, and they were to continue on their course.

The Americans said goodbye to Gina the next morning and set out on the trail. Unlike the other days where their destination had remained a mystery, Duffy informed them they were heading toward a town called Përmet. They would be traveling along a road sometimes used by the Germans, and he instructed the party that if they ran into trouble and were somehow separated, they were all to meet in the town. As they walked along the road, the Americans felt particularly vulnerable to attack, but luck was on their side, and they never saw another soul.

The Italians had previously burned Përmet, and the village had come under attack again just the week before by the Germans, who had burned many of the remaining houses. To protect what was left, a wooden bridge that once stretched over the Vjosë River and connected the road to the town had been destroyed and replaced with a swinging suspension bridge that would only be able to support bodies and not German tanks or trucks. The men and women, unsure of how much the bridge could handle, slowly made their way across it, spreading out their weight as they carefully maneuvered across.

When they were all safely on the other side, they boarded an old Italian truck that took them into the center of town as they passed a cheering crowd of people excited to see Americans.

CHAPTER 11