Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor by Nick Vellis

as the Andartes leader approached him. “May I call you Christos?”
    “Yes, but,” looking at each American, “we must leave here quickly.” Christos said, taking John’s hand with both of his, in an iron grip. Looking around at the other Americans, he said, “The Germans are looking for you in trucks and with machines in the air, airplanes. They do not usually fly at night, but last night for you, they make exception.
    They must want you very much to go to so much trouble,” Christos said. “Here, refresh yourself with this,” he said, tossing a wineskin to the nearest man. “It is krasi. Drink and let’s go.”
    The Americans each took a swallow of krasi, a rough red wine diluted with water, and prepared to move out, this time with Christos in the lead. Christos, leading two donkeys that carried the American’s heavy equipment, set a fast pace through the low wills.
    “How far is it to your camp?” John asked as he caught up with Christos.
    “Better to not talk now. We can be heard far away,” Christos replied as he picked up the pace.
    After nearly an hour’s hard trek, Christos stopped abruptly. Pantheras raised his right fist to signal a halt and went to one knee while he watched the experienced guerilla fighter. He appeared to be listening. Pantheras glanced around him, concentrating, but heard nothing.
    They had stopped midway between two groups of rocky outcrops above a small stream. Pantheras didn’t like the exposed position when cover in the hills was only yards away.
    Turning to Pantheras, Christos said in a whisper, “Germans coming from that way,” and pointed toward the distant stream.
    “I don’t see anything,” Pantheras said.
    “Smell. Their tobacco is in the air. They will be here soon,” replied Christos.
    “How long?” Pantheras said.
    Christos shrugged, “One, two cigarettes, no more,” Christos replied.
    Pantheras knew the resistance fighters figured time by how long it took to smoke a cigarette. They were often way off, but one cigarette wasn’t long, maybe eight minutes. Pantheras assessed their position and chances of taking out an enemy unit of unknown size. From the direction of their approach, it was clear the German patrol was avoiding the hills.
    Giving the circle up signal, Pantheras got the men together. He pointed out the advantages of their position, the two sets of hills, the rise, and a choke point where the two hills nearly came together.
    “A kraut patrol is about to come over that rise,” he said, pointing to his right. “We’ll set an L-shaped ambush there,” the lieutenant said, pointing to the gap between the hills only twenty yards away.
    Pantheras said, “Chris, Nick, Gus, take positions inside that next set of hills. Spread out and keep under cover. Chris, take the center position where that BAR will do the most good. Costos, Darrian, and George you take positions in those rocks there,” Pointing to an outcropping at a right angle, and about twenty yards from where the first group would hide.
    “Christos, you and I will be over there,” he said pointing to some rocks to the left of the rise’s crest. “Hold your fire until Christos and I slam the back door shut. If it works right, they’ll have nowhere to go. Remember to watch your fields of fire. Pick specific targets. Keep quiet and out of sight until it starts. It’ll be fast and effective, we hope. Any questions?” Pantheras said.
    The men exchanged nervous grins. 
    “All right, pick your positions, stay out of sight and good luck,” Pantheras said.
    The men took off running to find their hiding places. Pantheras picked his way through the loose scree and some of the low boulders. When he found a spot where he could see the trail, he wedged himself into an opening.
    He had room to move into a concealed firing position and to duck down completely out of sight. Settling his breathing, Pantheras eased back the charging handle on the side of his Thompson and flipped the selector