Post by Dave Homewood on Jan 24, 2021 9:07:12 GMT 12
N.Z. SOLDIERS’ GRAVES
TRIBUTES BY GREEK PEASANTS
EXPLOITS IN WAR NOT FORGOTTEN
(Official War Correspondent N.Z.E.F.) MARKOPOULON (Greece), November 26
Perhaps by their very smallness this place and its little harbour of Portoralti will be lost to history. Yet from such humble beginnings in the soil of Attica did the glory of ancient Greece arise.
To-day, when my borrowed car bounced its way along the battered tarmac road from Athens, Markopoulon looked as, I suppose, it always looked since the dawn of history—a line of white-walled houses straggling across low foothills backed by a massive range of mountains.
I had with me an English-speaking Greek friend who for two years had been deeply involved in the underground movement in occupied Greece. He caught sight of peasants working amid old olive trees. They were in a cemetery, similar to many Italian ones—elaborate and picturesque. In the middle, shaded by trees and the walls of ancient vaults, was a square of ground carpeted with flowers, and about it was the only sign of life in the enclosure—youths and girls moving silently and carefully tending a score of graves.
It was necessary to remove the wreaths before I could read the inscription on any of the simple wooden crosses on 10 New Zealand graves there. Only one was identified, that of 29718 C. Fletcher. Nine bore the words “Militare Neo Zealandesi Sconoscuito” (unknown New Zealand soldier).
My Greek friend took a piece of paper from one of the boys. He explained it was a custom of the village boys and girls to attend the graves of the Allies every Sunday, and to read over them verses of praise and sympathy composed during the week. This is a rough translation of the verses he read:
“ You came to us from over the sea to fight for the cause of freedom. Now you are here, and there is no one of yours, not even your mother, to light for you here a candle. But we will mourn for your memory and in the hour of victory, as in defeat, we will bring you flowers from the fields, and with them will always be mingled laurels of honour.”
PRESS, 4 DECEMBER 1944
TRIBUTES BY GREEK PEASANTS
EXPLOITS IN WAR NOT FORGOTTEN
(Official War Correspondent N.Z.E.F.) MARKOPOULON (Greece), November 26
Perhaps by their very smallness this place and its little harbour of Portoralti will be lost to history. Yet from such humble beginnings in the soil of Attica did the glory of ancient Greece arise.
To-day, when my borrowed car bounced its way along the battered tarmac road from Athens, Markopoulon looked as, I suppose, it always looked since the dawn of history—a line of white-walled houses straggling across low foothills backed by a massive range of mountains.
I had with me an English-speaking Greek friend who for two years had been deeply involved in the underground movement in occupied Greece. He caught sight of peasants working amid old olive trees. They were in a cemetery, similar to many Italian ones—elaborate and picturesque. In the middle, shaded by trees and the walls of ancient vaults, was a square of ground carpeted with flowers, and about it was the only sign of life in the enclosure—youths and girls moving silently and carefully tending a score of graves.
It was necessary to remove the wreaths before I could read the inscription on any of the simple wooden crosses on 10 New Zealand graves there. Only one was identified, that of 29718 C. Fletcher. Nine bore the words “Militare Neo Zealandesi Sconoscuito” (unknown New Zealand soldier).
My Greek friend took a piece of paper from one of the boys. He explained it was a custom of the village boys and girls to attend the graves of the Allies every Sunday, and to read over them verses of praise and sympathy composed during the week. This is a rough translation of the verses he read:
“ You came to us from over the sea to fight for the cause of freedom. Now you are here, and there is no one of yours, not even your mother, to light for you here a candle. But we will mourn for your memory and in the hour of victory, as in defeat, we will bring you flowers from the fields, and with them will always be mingled laurels of honour.”
PRESS, 4 DECEMBER 1944
