The Captain's Decision

When his 50-year-old mother died last year after being brutally kicked by a Communist policeman, young (26) Athanas-sios Nicholaos determined to find some way out of the hellhole that the Reds had made of his small native land. "I would have killed myself rather than stay on in Albania," he said. But escape was not easy. Albania, according to Athanassios, is locked tight in the grip of 400 Russian civilians who completely control the government and the economy, and another 150 Russian officers who run the army and the police. The native population is for the most part sick with starvation, tuberculosis or plain terror. "It is almost impossible to avoid the security police who are everywhere," says Athanassios. "You can't even trust your own brother."

Despite this general rule, Athanassios, an engineer aboard a tiny cargo vessel called the Dynamo, did trust his young brother Christakis well enough to get them both free. One night last week, as the Dynamo's captain, Vassilis Kotzis, and two Communist soldiers assigned to guard his cargo of flour and tires were waiting to set sail in the harbor at Valona Athanassios turned up on board with a surprise--some rare white bread, cheese and good red wine. "From a cousin's wedding," he explained as he disappeared into the galley to prepare the feast.

Bound for Greece. As the captain and the guards sat waiting Athanassios laid out the bread and cheese and poured the wine. Then into three wine glasses, he slipped knockout drops. Sipping the wine a moment later, the captain remarked that it seemed excellent, but tasted somewhat of perfume. "Oh," said Athanassios, "some aroma from the wedding . . ."

One of the guards passed out; the captain and the other guard went on drinking. Athanassios refilled their glasses, this time adding a dash of morphine. Within five minutes both were asleep. Athanassios lit two lanterns as a signal. Ashore, his waiting brother Christakis hastily stripped off his clothes, dodged into a doorway to avoid two approaching soldiers, then darted naked across 50 ft. of waterfront road to dive into the icy harbor. Soon afterward, Athanassios hauled him aboard the Dynamo. With engine snorting, running lights burning bright and passengers sweetly sleeping, the two brothers then set out for Greece.

Going Back. Early next morning, the three prisoners woke up. One of the guards started to weep, demanding that Christakis give him his gun. "He wouldn't quit." said the younger brother, "so I let him have it in the leg. I should have shot the captain for waking him, but it's bad to kill people." At noon, the strange party landed at the Greek island of Corfu and gave themselves up. To newsmen's questions about their escape from Communism, the soldiers would say nothing, but the captain was just as outspoken in denunciation of the Reds as the two brothers who had kidnaped him. "I'd prefer 17 thousand times to stay in this country. Greece is freedom."

Why, then, did he want to be sent back? "I'm not a Communist," the old man explained. "I'm just an illiterate. But I've got a wife and four children. If I don't go back, they'll be made to suffer. I don't care if they kill me, but I have to save my family." Kindly Greek officials could find no words to tell the old captain that his return would probably not save his wife and children now.

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