My Greek Odyssey

Forty Years in the Jails of Enver Hoxha by Minas Paras/ Chapter 3 / Occupation and Resistance

This is the 3rd Chapter of an abridged  translation of a book entitled "Forty Years in the Jails of Enver Hoxha" by Minas Paras.  The previous two chapters can be found here.

The Italian Police returned to Politsani. The Police Chief summoned me to his office and I was told I no longer had the right to move freely.  The police, however, were in no position to ensure security in the area. That's when the robberies started. They were perpetrated by residents of  Muslim villages against the villages occupied by Greeks.  Even Greek villages on the other side of the border were ransacked.

On the 15th of August after the liturgy at St. Nicholas,  a meeting of the entire village took place. Some in the crowd advocated hiring outside people to guard the village. I considered this folly and appealed to the others: "Aren't we men and can't we protect our own honor, protect our lives and our village?  We have some weapons and we can obtain more."

Someone  asked "Are you willing to take charge?"  I answered, "Yes."

Ninety three men volunteered immediately and we were able to collect thirty rifles. Starting that night we sent out patrols in and outside of our village. We posted lookouts.  Politsanites living in Avlona and Tirana sent us flashlights and other equipment.  We were also able to obtain additional weapons.  Word spread that Politsani was heavily guarded.

After some initial successes, other nearby villages joined our efforts and within a short period of time, bandits no longer ventured into the region of Pogoni. Later,  national liberation movements began to organize in Greece and Albania. In October of 1941 I traveled to Tirana to learn more about these preparations. I was contacted by the Central Committee of the movement known as "Metopou."

It was decided that  we would wage war against the occupation. We came to an agreement, Greeks and Albanians. The Greek minority would fight within the movement but after victory against the Axis forces, we would be given the right to become an autonomous region.  The Central Committe decided to send a representative, Basil Katis to Politsani.  He was to become the Minister of Trade in the new government after liberation but was soon consigned to the jails of Enver Hoxha.

The guerrilla war against the Axis began to spread. The Italian position in Politsani became untenable and they withdrew.   Our area because of its mountainous terrain was ideal for guerrilla warfare. It became a safe zone for the partisans who began to come into Politsani to receive supplies and rations. Soon the entire Pogoni region became a partisan sanctuary. The leaders of the Albanian Liberation Movement used Politsani as a headquarters including the Greeks of EAM such as the representative of their Central Committee, Miltiades Kirgiannis under the alias Alexis Yiannaris, whom I warned about the unreliability of the Albanian Communists. Many of the Albanian guerrilla leaders would later find themselves in the jails of Enver Hoxha including Mehmet Shehou, his prime minister for thirty years, who Hoxha personally murdered.

Parachute drops from Allied airplanes began in the valley near the village of Sheperi, next to Politsani. None of these weapons were given to the Greek inhabitants.  A British commando team headed by a man named MacNeil also arrived. I asked him for supplies for the Greeks in Pogoni. He advised us to continue working together with the Albanian guerrillas and eventually the Allies would help the Greek minority after the war was over. The team came to Politsani and met with the village leaders. They promised paradrops. Unfortunately they never materialized. I found out later that the leader of the Albanian resistance in the Avlona-Argirokastro area, who was worried that we would break away before the war was over, convinced the British to cancel those paradrops. From that point on we never trusted the Albanian guerrilla leaders.

Forty Years in the Jails of Enver Hoxha (1945-1991) by Minas Paras/ Chapter 2

The Village of Politsani in Northern Epirus before World War II

This is the second installment of an abridged translation of the autobiography of Minas Paras, a Greek inhabitant of Northern Epirus who spent forty years imprisoned by the Albanian dictator, Enver Hoxha:

CHAPTER II

The Italians occupied Albania on 7 April 1939, without, of course, any resistance whatsoever. By October of 1940, the Italian Army was concentrated along the Greek-Albania frontier. Our villages from Agios Saranda to Koritsa were full of Italians. I remember many of these soldiers, including Officers, who told me they were going to Iannina very soon. One officer had a bicycle which he intended to ride all the way to Iannina; inside I laughed at his stupid arrogance. 

On 28 October, we waited and worried in the village of Sxoriades for some news. All of us were in agony. War had broken out. The Italians had started their invasion well prepared. The Greeks withdrew initially, in an organized fashion. In the afternoon, the Italians brought back twelve Greek soldiers as prisoners. This group included a Sergeant and a Greek civilian from the  village of  Drimades, which is located right on the border. He was captured fighting with his own shotgun. The rest of the Greek army had retreated to Kalimbaki. 

I approached the prisoners and spoke with them. The Sergeant whispered, "Don't worry, don't lose heart, we will win and we will beat them."  As I learned later that evening, the Italians transported the prisoners to Politsani and the prisoners told my friends there the same thing.  While being transported to Premeti over the mountain range called Nemertska, they overpowered their guards and took their weapons and escaped to Kalimbaki. This accomplishment was relayed to us later by the Greek Army after they liberated Northen Epirus. 

The Italian and Albanian radio stations were constantly talking about the great victories by Italian arms but in fact, they were losing ground. Most of the Pogoni region was empty since many of the vilagers fled when the battles commenced. The Italian Army had special battalions of Albanian volunteers some of whom proceeded to loot the villages of the Pogoni area. I remember seeing a convoy of mules loaded with all manner of goods looted from the homes of the surrounding villages. The leader of this unit wanted to leave the stolen goods in our schoolhouse, but I refused. The unit then left their mules at the school with a guard and went to the local kafenion where they began drinking and celebrating.  About that time an Italian officer on horseback arrived with a detachment of Italian soldiers. When I told him, using my limited Italian, what had happened, he drew his pistol and proceeded to the kafenion where he yelled at the men for shirking their duty and ordered them to leave. They immediately left the village only to return by another route. 

On the 11th of November, after the church service, all the men of the village gathered together to discuss the war. We knew nothing about what was going on. Some boys ran to inform us that some soldiers were passing through the village. I ran to speak with them. They were Albanians who informed me that a battle had occurred in Kalimbaki and that the Axis forces had withdrawn. I ran back to inform the others. All of us were ecstatic with joy. We were no longer anxious. Later my father informed me that the Italian police had arrested the doctor, Grigori Kitsaki, and they had taken him to Argirokastro. We continued to wait day by day. Kitsaki was exiled and imprisoned in Italy.

It was clear that the Italians were in retreat. The Italian Police left Politsani. Artillery could be heard in the distance. On the 21st of Novemeber, word spread that the inhabitants of our village were to take refuge that night in Sheperi, the neighboring village located in the Zagoria region. I was with my mother, my brother, Anastasi and with our neighbor Stavro Mako who was accompanied by his family. My father refused to leave and barricaded himself in our home hoping to witness the arrival of the Greek Army.  We were sent to the home of Stavros Nassis, a true Greek whose son, Nicholas, was a student at the Patriarchal School in Constantinople. I later met Nicholas in America fifty years later. He and his wife Evelini, who was born in Politsani, became my close friends.

The next day day we heard machinegun fire from the direction of Politsani. That night we heard the sounds of galloping horses. The next day, the 23rd of November there was not a single italian that could be found anywhere.  We decided to return to Politsani. Many had brought their livestock with them. Those that did not have donkys loaded their cows with their belongings for the return trip.  The return trip was surreal. In front of  us was the advancing Greek Army. I spoke with many Greek soldiers and their officers that we met on the way. I cannot describe the elation and emotions that we all felt that day. The following day Politsani was bombed with the loss of twenty-four inhabitants, mostly babies, children, and old people. I saw one young woman with her guts spilled out on the ground, arms and legs were strewn about. Nothing happened to the Greek Army since they had already advanced, much earlier, north towardsthe  Zagoria region. 

We buried the dead and we transported the wounded to Iannina. The roads were pockmarked with bomb craters and we arrived in the darkness of night in Pogoniani, where the wounded were loaded onto military vehicles and evacuated to the hospital. I will never forget the fatigue and difficulty of that night. I will forever be indebted to the surgeon, Dr. Christidis and the chief nurse Efrosini Spiridona for their efforts on behalf of our fellow villagers. Thanks to his eminence, Metropolitan Spyridon of Iannina we departed with a truckload of  food for our village. 

In December of 1940, I was summoned to Argirokastro by the Greek military commander of Northern Epirus, General Melas.  He asked me to recruit able men to undertake dangerous missions to acquire intelligence about the Italians along the front. I was given a document signed by him that allowed me to travel freely throughout northern Epirus to complete my mission. Later I hid this letter behind my mothers framed picture where I found it in 1965. I immediately tore it up before it could be discovered by Enver Hoxha's security people. 

All of Northern Epirus, as far as the Greek Army had advanced, found itself in a state of happiness and good fortune. We celebrated  Christmas and New Years Day with the Greek Army and Police and later, Greek Independence Day in March of 1941. The Greek flag flew from every home and we all took part in these joyous celebrations. 

Unfortunately, the fortunes of war changed and the Greek Army was forced to retreat before the German onslaught. A Greek division passed through Politsani commanded by Colonel Kalotantalon. He rode on horseback at its head. We begged him to stay and refresh himself with a cup of coffee. He seemed very tired and worn out. He said: "My son, you see what is happening around us and I must do my duty but I will drink your coffee because I don't want to disappoint you. I feel your agony at this moment.  I asked him what would happen. He replied "I understand your apprehension. Our King is sure that along with our Allies we will be able to win the war. I believe this as well."  As I recall, all the Greek division commanders were Colonels, the Greek government nominated them for promotion to the rank of Brigadier General, however, all of them refused the promotion if Tepelene did not fall into Greek hanfds. 

Later the Greek Police Chief in Politsani whose name was Belos and his police officers including one named Capodistrias said their goodbyes and told me they would write.  The entire village, men, women and children, young and old, followed them to the outskirts of the village crying the entire way. In all of Northern Epirus as far as the Greek Army had advanced, Himara, Agios Saranta, Vourko, Delvino, Lintsouria, Zagoria, Dermoupoli, Pogoni, Premeti, Leksoviki, Kolonia, and Koritsa, the Greek population said their goodbyes to the Greek Army, shouting "Why are you leaving? Take us with you." I saw this with my own eyes. 

Next installment: Chapter III/The Resistance Against the Germans

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Forty Years in the Jails of Enver Hoxha (1945-1991) by Minas Paras/ CHAPTER ONE

 

A few years ago, I had the honor of meeting a old friend of my parents. His name was Minas Paras. Minas and his wife were from Politsani, my mother's village in Northern Epirus. All I knew about Minas was that he had been jailed by the Albanian Communists for awhile and that he had recently arrived in the USA. Minas regaled us with the story of how he and his family had been welcomed into and sought refuge in the home of my paternal grandfather, Stavros, who lived in the  adjoining village of Sheperi, when Politsani was bombed by the Italians in World War II. He described both my grandfather's as "true Greeks," worthy of respect. His kind words touched me deeply but I did not realize the full extent of his own patriotism until years later, after his death. Minas, a truly humble man, wrote the inspiring story of his life, which appeared in print in Greece in 1997. He had given my father a copy inscribed with a message on the inside cover. It sat in my father's boxed up collection of books until just recently when I rediscovered it and read it. It was so powerful that I decided to translate it as best I could, to give others an opportunity to understand the extent of his sacrifice for Hellas and for Hellenic ideals. The book will appear in installments periodically at MGO. Good Reading and Semper Fi, Stavros

 

Chapter One

Every prisoner loses his liberty for a reason. For fifty years I have been trying to determine why I was judged guilty, what my crime was and why I was sent to jail. Why did I have to endure forty six years of prison, exile, forced labor, and the loss of everything I owned? I want the reader to understand who I was during my thirty years of freedom prior to my imprisonment and thus evaluate for themselves why the Albanian Communists in the regime of Enver Hoxha decided to imprison me.

I was born on 26th October 1914, near St. Demetrios. My grandfather, was a priest named Papa Anastasis who honored his ancestors who came from Para, a neighboring village that was destroyed. The patron Saint of our village and our home was St. Minas. My father was Spiros Paras, who emigrated to America along with my brother, Gregory who was then 14 years old. I finished the elementary school in the village of Politsani, northern Epirus (now Albania) and went to Ioannina in southern Epirus (now Greece) where my uncles lived in order to pursue my studies. Upon completion of high school, I enrolled in the Business School. I have fond memories of many of my classmates and friends during this time. I was a first class Boy Scout and involved in sports such as the 100 yard dash, the high jump, volleyball and soccer. I worked at a restaurant named "The Constantinopolitan," owned by my uncle. I got the chance to travel throughout Epirus during various school field trips and on the occasion of religious feast days. I was fortunate enough to hear the many politicians of the era who frequented my uncle's restaurant and were organizing the newly emerging political movements of that time. In 1926, at the age of 12, I got my first glimpse of one of the important Greek leaders, Theodoros Pangalos, who eventually became prime minister. I was a waiter and served food at a dinner in his honor. He asked me my name and patted me on the shoulder, making a great impression on me. In 1928, we traveled to the outskirts of town to welcome the greatest man of the era, Eleftherios Venizelos, whose hand I kissed. I was a avid reader of the local newspapers which I devoured with relish, especially a paper called the "Greek Future." I graduated from the Business school in 1931 and returned to Politsani where my parents were residing. Before leaving Ioaninna, the Metropolitan of Ioaninna, His Eminence Spyridon, a respected Greek prelate of the Orthodox Church and a champion of freedom for Northern Epirus, requested that I become a teacher of the Greek language in Northern Epirus where there was a great need. I was young, but I was old enough to understand my duty.

My wages were paid by the Greek State via the Greek consulate in Agirokastro. I went to work at the school in Politsani and did the best I could to make ends meet on my meager salary, which supported my entire family, after my father lost his factory job on the island of Corfu. I taught school with two colleagues and fellow Politsanites, Miltiadis Geokas and Kalianthi Kitsato. The school principal was an Albanian fanatic who spent most of his time with his ear glued to the doors of our classrooms. Good morning in Albanian is pronounced "mir ming ges" which sounds like the Greek word "mirminges (ants)."   I used the Greek pronunciation even after our Principal realized its meaning.  I continued to use it despite his protestations and threats and lead my students in the singing of the Greek National Anthem in hushed tones behind close doors.

In 1934 an Albanian law was passed that required that only the Albanian language would be taught in school. The Greek minority responded by boycotting the schools and signing a petition that was sent to King Zog and the League of Nations. I was exiled along with many other teachers of the Greek language to northern Albania. There I met Vasili Sahini, the head of the Greek minority, who was executed in 1943 by the Albanians. I was eventually drafted and transferred to the Non Commissioned Officer Academy of the Albanian Army located in Tirane (the Albanian capital). Meanwhile in Politsani, a number of those who struggled untiringly for years on behalf of the Greek minority, such as the doctor, Gregory Kitsatis, and the merchant, Panagiotis Lekkas were also exiled. My father, Spiros, was jailed in the prison of Limohovou, where he was tortured. They punctured his neck with a wooden cane and the resulting wound became infected. He was eventually freed as a result of his poor physical condition. The League of Nations sent the entire matter to the World Court in the Hague, which subsequently ruled in favor of the Greek minority and against the government of King Zog. The Greek schools reopened throughout Northern Epirus in all the Greek speaking villages amid celebrations.

After serving my military service in a infantry regiment in Skorda, I was discharged in 1934 and returned to Politsani. At that time the Albanian Ministry of Education began requiring all teachers of the Greek language to hold a teaching diploma even though only a handful of Albanian teachers had more than an elementary school education. The Greek government immediately sent those of us who did not hold the requisite diploma to the Teacher's college of Ioannina. The year I spent in Ioannina was unforgettable and it brought back many fond memories from my youthful stay in that city. I was able to meet Ioannis Metaxas, his majesty King George and Crown Prince Paul at a dinner held in honor of the Greek teachers of Northern Epirus. I will forego all the details because I need to finish this book given my advanced age and declining health. In 1939 I was named a lay representative of the Orthodox Church in Politsani and set about the task of overseeing the refurbishment of a number of churches in the area built in the 5th, 12th and 16th centuries, that were in dire need of repair. Unfortunately, in the midst of my efforts, Italy invaded and occupied Albania on April, 7, 1940. This was a sad and apprehensive time for all of us. What was going to happen? Eventually, an Italian official convened a meeting of all the Greek teachers in the city of Agirokastro. He threatened all of us and told us in no uncertain terms that from then on we were to look to Mussolini's Italy and not to Greece. All of us, however, continued playing the same tune: Greece now and forever!!

On August 6, two of my friends, Petro Liatsos, Stathis Noti and I attended the festival of the Monastery of Tsiatistas, which attracted people from all the adjoining villages. We drank, ate and sang. After a while we decide to dance. The police chief of Politsani, an Albanian was also there with another gendarme. After imbibing all night he demanded that the women present get up and dance. I told him that only the men were dancing and he began to threaten me with arrest, whereupon my friend Petro, a rather large palikari (stout-hrated man), said "Should I take him Mina?" I replied "Take him" and he immediately grabbed him and locked him in a nearby room. The other officer attempted to intervene and he too was picked up bodily and locked up. They were released the next day after they sobered up, quietly left town and replaced soon after by the Italians. I was hauled in for interrogation and despite my story, was arrested and sent to Agirokastro. I was released only after the mayor of Tsiatistas intervened on my behalf. As the Second World War approached many of our fellow Politsanites from America, who had returned recently to see their relatives and kiss the holy soil of their Patrida (Fatherland), barely had time to escape the gathering storm clouds. This was the moment when I could have escaped the fate in store for me, since my immigrant application had been approved by the American Embassy. Unfortunately it was written otherwise, and the destiny that awaited me was to spend the best years of my youthful vigor in the misery and brutality of Communist Albania.

    Technorati : Albania, Enver Hoxha, Greece, Minas Paras, Northern Epirus, Politsani