Free Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor by Nick Vellis Page A

Christos said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I have no conscience left. I have killed too many Germans to worry about three more.”
    “They raped those two girls, Christos. This isn’t on my conscience. It’s …”
    A burst of automatic weapons fire cut his words short. The crowd hit the ground except for the eldest girl from the taverna who stood alone holding a German MP 40. Pantheras looked at her then at the prisoners, who were obviously dead. Tears streaked her dirty, bruised face as she handed Pantheras the weapon.
    Pantheras walked over to the dead Germans and with the toe of his boot turned the bodies face up. He drew his .45 and obliterated each corpse’s face with a quick round. Turning to the young girl, Pantheras said in Greek, “You can forget their faces now. They’re gone, too.”
    As the crowd recovered, the women surrounded the girls, hustling them away. Christos and Zabt joined Pantheras, who watched them leave.
    “We need to get out of here, time to get back on mission. Christos, if we take the trucks, can we make up some time?” Pantheras said.
    “We can, my friend, but first we must help these people. The Germans will make reprisals. We must help these people burn the village,” Christos replied.
    “What? We just risked our lives to save this village.”
    “Yes, that is true, but the Germans will be back. The pigs always come back. They will kill everyone and burn the village
    If these people burn it they will not be ashamed to return when the Germans are gone. There is good water here, a spring flows from a cave in the hills. These people have used it for many years. They need to be able to come back here.”
    “Have it your way then, but we need to make it quick. We’ll collect the bodies and put them in one of the trucks. We can hide them when we leave,” Pantheras said, calling to Zabt. “George, we move out in the trucks in thirty minutes. Let’s get moving.”
    Reaching out to shake his friend’s hand, Christos said, “Thank you, John. You did not have to risk coming.”
    “You reminded me why we’re here,” John replied, looking at his friend. “When you’ve got the ability to do the right thing, you have a responsibility to do it, don’t you think?”
    “I suppose you do,” Christos replied. “For you and me, it would appear to be so.”
    Smiling at his friend, Pantheras said, “Show me what’s so special about this spring?”
     
    Two figures with powerful field glasses scanned the valley below concealed by the brow of a ridge. They watched a ribbon of steel snake through the barren landscape, looking for the perfect spot, a spot to blow it up.
    They were on the edge of the Thessaly plain, southeast of the village of Veria and its rail junction. To the east, through the mid-day haze, they could make out the smoke of Thessaloniki’s cook fires, less than 45 miles away. This spot allowed them to observe the north-south rail line along the coast. The men watched the barren valley in silence.
    Behind them, the rest of the party took a welcome breather. Concealed down the reverse slope, they looked out on a vast plain. Their ride in the trucks had been rough, bouncing over trails never intended for vehicles and difficult for even donkeys to navigate. After concealing the trucks against future use, the men had clambered up the hill. The prospect of a few hours sleep cheered the men.
    “When is the train due?” Christos said to Pantheras, hunkered down beside him. 
    “They said about dark,” said Pantheras, not taking his eyes off the valley below.
    “Where does your headquarters get its information?” Christos asked.
    “They have someone pretty highly placed, apparently. I don’t know who or where,” John replied.
    “Why do they think it is not a troop train? They guard troop trains, too,” Christos said.
    “There are too many guards for just a troop train. The report is there are Greeks in locked cars and some secret cargo. You read the