Authors: Cate Lineberry
The Secret Rescue (12 page)
Hayes and Owen awoke early on their fourth morning in Berat to the sound of gunfire. They’d heard it sporadically since they’d arrived in the town, and it was usually a partisan firing off a few rounds for entertainment. But when their host and his teenage son came racing into their room looking worried, the two medics knew there was trouble. The man said something to his son in Albanian, and the teenager dashed out of the room. Then the man turned to the Americans and said, “It is not good. Get your clothes on.”
Hayes and Owen rushed to put on their uniforms, which they’d taken off the night before when they were given clean bedding. As Hayes laced up his shoes, the son returned and spoke to his father again in Albanian. Hayes had heard the sound of the front door opening and closing and figured the teenager had gone out into the street to see what was happening. The man told them they must hurry because the Germans had already entered Berat. It was not only the Germans but also the BK who were attacking the town, though the Americans still did not know of the BK. As the man spoke, Hayes heard artillery shells explode nearby. The two Americans tried to thank their host for letting them stay in his home, but he motioned for them to quickly get on their way.
The medics darted to the gate in front of the house as the sun came up and watched as crowds of panicked people ran toward the main street. Despite their own worries, the men decided they had to go back to George’s house to get their field jackets, medical bags, and musette bags, all of which were too valuable for them to leave behind. They had kept their belongings at George’s house at his suggestion rather than taking them to various homes throughout the town. Though Hayes still had his reservations about leaving anything out of his sight, George had earned his trust.
They pushed through the crowds until they reached George’s house. Despite the danger to himself, George stood at his front door with their belongings in his hands. They thanked him quickly and rummaged through their bags until they found their canvas leggings. The leggings, which had straps that went around the bottom of their shoes to keep them in place, were intended to keep pants from getting dirty and caught on brush, and to keep stones and snow out of shoes. The two men were putting them on when some of the other medics came running by. One shouted, “You don’t have time for that. Get going!” But Hayes and Owen were determined. When they finished, Owen said, “You ready? Let’s haul ass!” and the two took off running as fast as they could.
As they neared the edge of town, they spotted Stefa yelling for everyone to get into the same orange truck that had been used earlier to escort them around town. Medics, nurses, and partisans continued to pile in as Hayes and Owen joined them. Shumway, the injured crew chief, was in the back along with Thrasher and Baggs, who were helping some of the nurses climb on board. When the attack had started, Baggs had told Shumway at the hotel that they didn’t have time to find him a horse; he would have to do the best he could, so Shumway had hobbled alongside Baggs until they reached the truck.
The machine gun Baggs had carried was now gone. The pilots had decided the whole group might be safer if they were all unarmed. When the partisans had sent Gina home sometime during the last day or two, the pilots had given him the gun and several clips of ammunition as a thank-you. Hayes had hoped to thank Gina for all he had done for them, but he was gone before he could say good-bye.
When the truck was completely full, the driver cranked the engine and sped away, barreling down the exposed and uneven road with each bump jolting the passengers. It had traveled about a mile when those on board heard the engines of nearby planes followed by the sound of bombs bursting. The Germans were attacking Berat from the air as well as the ground. A German Messerschmitt Bf109 flew past them, turned around, and headed right for them. The truck driver stopped, and everyone jumped out and scattered as the plane started strafing the road. Jens landed in a puddle of mud, while Hayes dove to the ground and soon heard another Messerschmitt approaching. When he looked up, the plane seemed to be diving straight for him. He kept waiting for it to veer off, but it continued to come. He pressed his face into the ground and waited for the worst to happen, but suddenly the pilot pulled up and eventually the sound of both planes drifted away. When he looked up again, they were gone.
People climbed back into the truck as fast as they could, and they were soon moving, but they hadn’t traveled far before the planes returned. The truck came to a screeching halt, and those on board scrambled once again to get out. As Hayes jumped off, the butt of a partisan’s rifle smashed into the back of his head, momentarily disorienting him. When he recovered, he was furious at the partisan until he looked at the man and saw the fear in his face and realized the partisan was even more scared than he was.
Hayes started running west until he reached a bank rising almost six feet above a stream. He jumped down and over the water. Owen and Zeiber, the medic from Reading, Pennsylvania, were right behind him. The three men, out of breath from running, crouched behind the bank. Though they couldn’t see what was happening, they could hear the planes flying up and down the road in strafing runs.
When it sounded as if the airplanes were gone, Hayes raised himself above the edge of the bank and looked toward the road. One plane remained. It was a Fieseler Fi-156 Storch, a German observation plane that could travel as fast as 110 miles per hour and had a stalling speed of 31 miles per hour, which gave it the appearance of hovering in the air. Hayes also saw that the truck had been strafed repeatedly and all but destroyed. There was no going back.
While Hayes scouted the road, Zeiber yelled he was going back to find the others and took off. Hayes and Owen decided to follow the path of the river leading away from Berat while they kept a lookout for their party. It wasn’t long before they found Kopsco, the nurse from Louisiana who had also taken cover behind the bank and was as shaken as they were. As they followed the river they ran into more from their group including the pilots, nurses Jens and Rutkowksi, Ebers, the medic from Steeleville, Illinois, and a couple others, bringing the group to a total of ten. Also with them was Qani Siqeca, a twenty-three-year-old partisan with a slight build whom they’d met on their second day in Berat and who had performed in the partisan play. Fortunately Qani, whom the Americans mistakenly called Johnny, spoke some English from his days at the Albanian Vocational School. Stefa and the other twenty Americans were nowhere in sight.
The group returned to the road and saw that it was covered with German trucks and at least one armored tank. Qani thought it would be best to head for the mountains to the east of them. They waited behind the bank until the trucks left the area before making a quick dash across the road and marching toward higher elevations.
After walking for about an hour, watching for any sound or movement in the trees and holding on to the hope that they would find the rest of their party, they came upon a small village of just three houses. Qani explained to the village men who they were and asked if they had any food to share. Though the villagers initially told him they had nothing to give, Qani continued asking until they eventually offered two yellow quinces, the only food the group had all day. The tart fruit was cut into pieces and divided among the entire party who, though still hungry, understood the sacrifice even such a small gift of food meant to the poor village.
They soon left and continued to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the Germans before nightfall. As sunset neared, they stopped at the village of Drenovë, where Qani arranged for them to stay. The two-story house they were taken to was built into the side of a hill, and the first floor functioned as a stable. After being led upstairs to a room, a man prepared a fire for them and brought cornbread. The group would eat anything to quell their hunger, and some of them stuffed extra pieces in their pockets for later. When the villager left them alone, the frightened men and women huddled by the fire trying to warm themselves and to figure out a plan.
One voice followed another as they discussed whether the Germans had seen the photos of them posted in the shop window or recognized them as Americans in the attack. If they had, they wondered if the Germans would follow them into the mountains. The threat from the Germans and the idea of being captured now seemed greater than at any other time since they’d been in Albania.
The shaken Americans also couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the others. Had they been on the truck when the Germans strafed it or were they wandering alone in the mountains? Had they been caught and were now at the mercy of the Germans? This was their eighth day in Albania, and it felt as if any luck they’d had before had run out.
One of the nurses said that she’d been told at Bowman Field to give the Germans only her name, rank, and serial number if captured, while Thrasher argued they should stay where they were and should destroy anything that could identify them in case they were caught. He and Baggs started going through their wallets and tossing anything that could identify them into the fire. Jens agreed and also threw a picture with Stefa’s name and address written on the back into the flames in an effort to protect him. If he were caught helping them, he would surely be killed. Hayes, Owen, and some of the other medics, however, refused to consider that getting caught was an option. Hayes voiced his objection, and a few of the medics signaled to one another to have a private discussion near the home’s crude toilet. They talked and decided that even if the others remained, they were going to leave the village in the morning. Hayes delivered the news, and after a few moments of silence, Thrasher agreed they would all leave together.
T
he Americans had been missing for more than a week, but hopes of finding them remained alive. An officer from the flight crew’s 61st Troop Carrier Squadron had sent a memo earlier in the week to the commanding officer of the 314th Troop Carrier Group suggesting that it alert the Navy as well as all pilots in the area to be on the lookout for the plane and that resistance fighters in Greece be notified. He wrote, “We feel that the number of highly trained personnel involved would justify the action.”
Some in the 807th in Catania attended church services to pray for the missing, while they continued to evacuate patients. The strain on the squadron’s personnel was mounting as those on duty were overworked and weighed down by thoughts of their lost friends. The flight surgeons helped fill the gaps, but morale was low. “The building housing the enlisted men is like a morgue at present and the villa housing the nurses doesn’t have the drawing power of Officers as usual,” wrote one member of the 807th.
On November 15, the same day the party fled Berat, McKnight, the 807th’s commanding officer, reported the twenty-six nurses and medics as officially missing and signed the reports to the commanding general of the Twelfth Air Force. The papers included the family members of the men and women who should be notified of their status.
Knowing that the Germans were somewhere in the area, the Americans’ Albanian host at Drenovë was anxious for them to leave the next morning, and he rushed them out without offering any more food. Hayes pulled out the piece of cornbread he’d pocketed the night before and ate it as they walked along the trail following Qani’s lead. The party occasionally passed small groups of partisans, who saluted them, and they responded in kind, as was expected, but their minds were on their missing friends and their own safety.
About two hours later, as they climbed higher into the mountains, they arrived at a large village of roughly thirty houses. The group was moving slowly that morning, and medics Hayes, Owen, and Ebers soon found themselves ahead of the others and noticed several partisans setting up a machine gun. The Americans had only picked up a few words of Albanian, so they tried to ask the men in English if the Germans were close by, but the Albanians were intent on their task and no one answered them. The medics continued on and, before they had left the village, they saw a group of at least eighty Italians, including a lieutenant colonel, standing on a side street looking as lost as they were. The medics eyed the large group of soldiers but kept moving.
A few moments later, gunfire broke out from several directions. Qani, Jens, and the others who were still behind Hayes, Owen, and Ebers heard the volley and dropped to the ground as bullets flew past them. Baggs told the group to crawl toward a small stone building he could see near the hill leading out of town. A few in the group tried to stand, but more shots whizzed by, and they quickly retreated to the ground and continued to crawl. Upon reaching the house, they leaned against its outside walls for protection until they found a door and hid inside.