Betrayed Valor Page 5

  * * *

  Red watched Petrovich as he walked away. He swallowed. Everyone knew the bond that he had with O’Donnell.

  “Bloody shame to hear that a talented and brave flier went down like that,” he said to the SOE agent.

  “Bloody shame, for sure. But he was a bit volatile from what I’ve gathered.” The SOE agent stretched his arms over his head.

  “I’d heard he was a spit fire from the moment he entered this God-forsaken war. Hell bent on avenging his friend who’d been killed by the Germans. But he calmed with time. I think our boy Petrovich over there had some to do with that.” Red replied as he rose to leave.

  “Could be. Or maybe he mellowed with time.” The SOE agent looked up at Red and continued. “Either way, he’d been a great flier, I hope he’s alive and well with the Partisans. Otherwise, I don’t think it’d be likely that any of us would see him again.”

  As Red walked away, he thought of the agent’s words. Tito and his Partisans were the saving grace, and O’Donnell may be just lucky enough to meet Tito himself. That would be an honor to anyone. But these yanks don’t fully see that yet, he thought. But they will. When the time is right, they will see.

  * * *

  Petrovich sat on his bunk. Elbows on knees, he covered his face with his hands. God, I know that I haven’t always been the one to pray and all that. And I’m sorry for that. But O’Donnell’s a good guy - fighting for the good guys, trying to stop all the killing and bloodshed, that I’m pretty sure you don’t like either. I’m asking, no I’m begging, that he’s in good hands and safe.

  I don’t have many friends like him. And I’d like to be able to see him again. So . . . I’m not even sure how to ask this. But, if you could do, what you do, and let him be safe. I’d very much appreciate it. I promise to go to Church more often when I’m home. I’m begging you to help my friend. Amen.

  Petrovich opened his eyes and saw something shiny just below the bunk. He bent over and picked up the red and gold star pendant. He contemplated it for a few minutes. He was too tired last night to remember where he had seen it before. But now he remembered seeing stars like this on pictures of Soviet generals. What in the world would a Communist red star be doing on their base?

  * * *

  “General MacKenzie, sir.” Petrovich saluted when he saw the General later in the day. “Have you received any contact from O’Donnell and his crew?”

  “Not yet, son. But don’t give up hope. It’s early yet. We hope to get contact with them soon.” General MacKenzie looked at him with thoughtful eyes. He knew what it was like to lose a good friend to the hatefulness of war.

  “O’Donnell’s a brave man. He’s one of the top men we have. I have full faith that if he was able to get out of that plane, that he’d get to where he needs to be on the ground to be safe. But right now, we don’t know if he made it out of the plane before it crashed. We just know that they were attempting to abandon ship. Now it’s just a waiting game.”

  “Thank you, sir. Please keep me posted and let me know if, I mean when, he contacts us.” Petrovich saluted the General and walked away.

  CHAPTER 7

  O’DONNELL HELD HIS breath as the door creaked opened. A German soldier forced his way into the home. Pushing Milka’s father to the side, he walked towards the boys at the table. They jumped up out of their seats and quickly gathered around their father. The German’s gaze shifted around the room, eventually stopping on the father. Trying to intimidate, the German stared at him for several seconds. After a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence, he finally asked him a question. His thick German accent sounded unnatural as he struggled to speak the Slavic language.

  “Ne. Nema niko ovde, samo ja i porodica moja.”

  Milka’s father shook his head as he answered the soldier. O’Donnell didn’t know what he said, but he figured the German was asking about him, especially because he was sure he heard him say “Amerikanac.” And he assumed that her father denied O’Donnell’s presence in their home. He couldn’t understand the continuing conversation, but he could see that they were still standing near the table. O’Donnell focused hard on keeping his body still, afraid that any movement would alert the soldier to his whereabouts. He was concerned for his life, but he was more worried for Milka and her family. O’Donnell shuddered to think what would happen to them if the soldier found out that they were hiding an American soldier.

  Abruptly, the conversation ended and the German’s shiny black boots meandered across the room. They paused by Milka and her mother. O’Donnell watched Milka move even closer to her mother and clutch her apron. He was ready to jump out from under the bed if the soldier laid a hand on that sweet little girl or her mother. As O’Donnell mentally prepared to attack, the black boots turned and sauntered towards the bed. They stopped right in front of O’Donnell’s face.

  This is it, he thought. He’s got me for sure. O’Donnell held his breath and stared at the boots for an eternity. Suddenly, the German’s boots turned around and walked briskly towards the door. He barked a few words and walked out.

  Milka’s father quickly locked the door behind the soldier and turned around to face the bed. He knelt down, coming into O’Donnell’s view. He signaled to O’Donnell to wait another minute before coming out from under the bed. O’Donnell acknowledged the universal one finger symbol with a quick nod and waited, watching him to see what came next.

  Her father ran to the other side of the room and peered out the window. Milka let go of her mom and ran to her father. He hugged her, comforting her in a quietly confident and soothing voice. She squeezed for a few minutes then finally let go. When he spoke to her again, she ran to the bed and knelt in front of O’Donnell. A wide grin spread across her pretty face as she waved him out from under the bed.

  “That was a close call.” O’Donnell sighed, saying it to no one in particular because he knew that they couldn’t understand him anyway. “Thank you, er . . .” O’Donnell stumbled as he tried to find a way to communicate his appreciation.

  “You are velcome” Milka’s older brother grinned. O’Donnell’s eyes bulged from his head. The boy laughed out loud.

  “You speak English?”

  “Yes, but very little. I learn little. No too good.” The boy straightened his shoulders ever so slightly as he spoke, obviously proud of the little bit of English he knew.

  “Well, thank you again. Tell your family that I am very grateful to them for not turning me in to that Nazi.” The boy’s eyebrows scrunched together as he struggled to understand what O’Donnell said, or maybe he was struggling to find the words to respond. Either way, O’Donnell was grateful to not be in the hands of the Nazis.

  Milka’s father said something and then pointed towards the bed. O’Donnell understood that meant he was being told to go to sleep and he welcomed it. The fatigue set in so fast that O’Donnell could barely keep his eyes open. He lay down on the bed and pulled the thick wool blanket up to his chin. Rolling onto his side, he watched as the children climbed into bed. Milka’s mother kissed each of her children on their foreheads and tucked them in.

  Seeing they were safely in bed, she laid some more wool blankets onto the cold hard floor. While she was preparing their makeshift bed, her husband checked the fire in the stove. Watching them, O’Donnell’s eyes began to close. Both confused and grateful, he drifted off to sleep, thinking about how they first risked their lives to hide him from the Nazis, and then prepared to sleep on the hard floor so that they could give their bed to a stranger.

  O’Donnell woke, before dawn, to find Milka’s mother and father sitting next to each other at the long wooden table, drinking coffee from small espresso cups. Her father leaned in and placed his forehead on his wife’s, and then he tenderly whispered something in her ear. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and lightly placed her hand on his cheek. Her eyes closed, she placed a light kiss on his lips. When they opened, they glistened from the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Gently wipi
ng her tears away, he continued whispering softly to her.

  She lovingly caressed her husband’s face. Uncomfortable for intruding, O’Donnell shifted towards the wall. The slight movement caught her eye. She glanced at O’Donnell and quickly wiped the tears from her face. Her husband looked over his broad shoulder, making O’Donnell acutely aware that he had interrupted an intimately emotional moment between husband and wife. Not knowing what else to do, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

  At daybreak, they started on another journey. O’Donnell still had no idea as to where they were headed or why, but he assumed they were going to some military camp. Milka’s mother, whose name he found out was Andja, cried as she kissed her husband, Slavko, goodbye. She kissed O’Donnell’s right cheek, left cheek and then the right cheek again. With a smile she handed him a flask filled with water. Touched at the gesture, O’Donnell bowed his head as he quietly thanked her.

  A few of the villagers also gathered to say their goodbyes. The men shook his hand and the women hugged him. The children all clapped and waved, their smiles reaching from ear to ear. O’Donnell was ready to say his farewells to Milka and her family, but was pleasantly surprised as a familiar figure quickly waddled her way over to him. The older woman from yesterday hugged him hard and kissed him three times as well. She cried as she spoke to him. O’Donnell couldn’t understand her, but he knew deep down that she was wishing him well.

  Finally, Milka and her brothers each said their goodbyes to their father and then to him, each of them bravely holding back their tears. Their inner strength, in fact, the inner strength of everyone in this small village, gave O’Donnell a glimmer of hope that all would eventually end well.

  They hiked for several winding miles through the hills of Serbia. Several hours had passed and not a single word was spoken. O’Donnell didn’t have the slightest clue as to where they were going, but he wasn’t afraid. In fact, after what he experienced the night before, he was confident that Slavko was a good guy. Maybe he was taking him to Tito and the Partisans. He contemplated asking Slavko if they were going to the Partisan camp, but he hesitated. Something in his gut told him just to wait and see.

  As they continued their journey, O’Donnell remembered the intimate moment between Slavko and Andja from earlier in the morning. In a way that was difficult to explain, that loving interaction between husband and wife gave the war more meaning than any military briefing ever could. From the air, it was bombs, targets and Nazis. The reality that flesh and blood people were on the ground fighting to keep their families together never really materialized, until now.

  Worlds apart, yet so similar. How could he not have realized that the war is so much more than soldiers and politicians? There are real people fighting-good guys versus bad guys. Husbands, wives and children dealing with the very real thought that they would never see each other again. And what kind of people risked their lives and the lives of their children to keep a stranger safe? Slavko and Andja both know the consequences of hiding an American soldier. But they still did. Why?

  Thinking about the sacrifice that Slavko and his family were making for him, O’Donnell lost track of time. Lost in his thoughts, he was surprised when Slavko approached another bearded man. Although he was similarly dressed in the khaki pants and shirt, his was more of an actual military uniform. He had a dark green jacket and khaki green pants tucked in to knee high boots that had seen better days. His jacket had medals of honor that no longer shined, but were faded from war. His demeanor, head high, shoulders back and his confident stride, indicated that he wasn’t just a soldier, but someone with authority. The soldier greeted O’Donnell with a nod of his head. He and Slavko spoke briefly then the soldier held out his hand to O’Donnell.

  “I am Milos. I will take you from here. We must hurry. The Germans are on their patrol and we must make it to the next village before they can find us.” At that he turned and shook Slavko’s hand. Slavko extended his hand to shake O’Donnell’s, then turned and briskly walked back the way they had come.

  “You speak English! That’s great! My crew and I jumped after our plane was attacked by the Germans yesterday.” O’Donnell hesitated. He was so excited to speak to someone who understood him, he forgot that he still wasn’t sure if Milos was an ally.

  “My name’s O’Donnell. I’m an . . .”

  “American. I know.” Milos interrupted. “We will take you to safety until your men can get you safely out of Yugoslavia.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, who are ‘we’?” O’Donnell felt a surge of confidence from Milos’ words. He figured now was as good a time as ever to finally get the answer.

  “I am a Major with the Yugoslavian Royal Guard, which is loyal to King Peter. We are now Chetniks, led by General Draza Mihailovich” Milos proclaimed.

  O’Donnell was shocked. Chetniks? That didn’t make any sense. Why would the Chetniks be helping the Americans? His confidence plummeted. What if this was a set up? The Chetniks were aligned with Hitler, weren’t they?

  He’d heard about how the Nazis would gather groups of people - men, women and children, and tell them things like they were being taken to safety. The innocent people would be put on a train and sent off to a “safe destination.” But instead of safety, those poor people would find themselves in concentration camps and then dead in gas chambers.

  “The Germans know about you and your crew. They have been questioning the villagers.” Milos paused as he looked backwards over his broad shoulders, scanning the path behind them. He continued, “They will continue to look for all of you, that is why we must hurry. If they find you alive and find out that you have been guarded by Slavko and his family, they will torture and kill them.”

  “They wouldn’t be able to trace me back to them. We’re hours away from the village. Not to mention from Slavko and his family.” O’Donnell countered. “So at least they should be safe.”

  “You would be surprised what the Nazis can do. If they don’t trace you back to Slavko, they will find any family they can to pay the price of helping their enemy. Do not underestimate what they can do. Their cruelty has no bounds.” Milos sped up his pace and continued on the dirt path through the woods.

  It was a forested, mountainous area and they were climbing uphill. For being in good physical shape, O’Donnell was embarrassed to realize that he was having a hard time keeping up with Milos. He paused for a minute, hoping that a short rest would rejuvenate him. Milos stopped, albeit reluctantly. With obvious irritation by this temporary stop, he took the flask of water that Andja had given to O’Donnell and handed it to him.

  “Drink water. I know the path is a difficult one to travel. However, I must stress again that we must hurry. It is not much farther that we must walk. Take a moment if you have to. But no longer than that.” Milos watched O’Donnell as he eagerly drank from the flask.

  O’Donnell put the flask back around his neck and nodded to Milos. He didn’t want to put anyone in danger. And if what Milos told him was true, someone would be killed if the Germans found him. He did not want that on his conscience.

  They walked in silence for another hour. O’Donnell’s gut instinct told him that Milos was telling him the truth. If Milos was allied with the Germans, he could have given him up at any moment. Why would Milos take him on this long journey through the wooded mountains just to turn him in? It didn’t make any sense.

  Contemplating the Chetnik position, O’Donnell was caught off guard when Milos abruptly pushed him behind the bushes that lined the path. “What the . . . ?” Milos quickly put his hand over O’Donnell’s mouth. O’Donnell struggled for a few seconds trying to push Milos off of him.

  “Be quiet!” he whispered to O’Donnell. “Someone is coming.” O’Donnell nodded and Milos let go of his mouth. O’Donnell didn’t hear anything. He looked at Milos and was about to question him. Milos shook his head to silence him.

  They sat in the bushes for what seemed like an eternity. O’Donnell began questioning Milos�
�� sanity. Paranoia. That’s what it was. There wasn’t anyone coming and yet they were squatting behind some bushes like scared little rabbits. He was just about to stand up when he heard muffled voices up the path.

  A group of four teenage girls were hurriedly walking by, carrying buckets and baskets. A German soldier was following closely behind, watching their every move. The girls were sheet white with fear, but kept walking towards the nearby river. The German laughed and spoke to them, but they ignored him and quickened their pace. The soldier said something again, this time without a trace of humor and they stopped.

  With his hand resting on his rifle, he circled them like a wolf circling its prey. He grabbed the basket from the tallest girl in the group, laughing as he continued speaking German to them. She struggled to keep it, but he pulled it from her grasp and started looking through it. Not finding anything of his liking, he tossed it aside. She let go of her friends and ran towards the basket. Upset, she picked it up and shouted at the German. Then to O’Donnell’s disbelief, she spit at him!

  The Nazi lunged forward and grabbed her by the arm. Pulling her forward, he slapped her hard across the face. He was shaking her and shouting. The other girls, afraid to help and afraid to leave their friend, huddled in fear.

  Enraged, O’Donnell wanted to jump out of the bushes and shoot the soldier to stop him from hurting the young girl. But Milos put his hand on O’Donnell’s arm to stop him.

  O’Donnell glared at him. There were two of them and they could easily stop this. Milos quickly pulled off his belt and quietly crawled out from behind the bushes. The German, still shouting at the girl, began taunting her. He put his gun to her head and laughed. He pulled the gun away from her and pointed it towards her friends. Terrified, she looked past him and saw Milos crawling towards him on the ground.