travel

Monday morning I set out for Lakki to meet Franco with a sense of anticipation, not knowing where any of this might lead.

He had suggested I meet him at his office, Akmar Marina. I could not find any reference to this on Google Maps but felt confident that Lakki being a pretty small place I would find it eventually.

I passed through the main part of town and out to what clearly was some kind of marina, and parked next to the Customs House. After wandering around I could not spot anything that looked like an office and no signs that said Akmar or anything close. I got back into my car and drove further up the quays into the port area. I parked up again and looked around. There was a ferry ticket office, a wholesaler’s warehouse and a sort of café cum canteen with a few guys hanging out, out the front. Still nothing that looked like an office.

I decided to walk back towards the Customs House to see what I might come across, and lo and behold, right where I had originally parked there was a small building without any signs, that looked like it might be an office. I tentatively opened the door and a man looked up, smiled and said “Ah, David?”.

He sat me down. I do not speak Greek, and he does not speak English, so he indicated I should sit and wait  for someone to come and interpret. I was in no hurry.

After 10 minutes or so Maria, who runs the nearby War Museum, arrived. She had an Australian accent; her parents were from Leros and she had returned to live here a few years ago. The three of us talked for  good while, and it was very moving in a way that is hard for me to put my finger on. The main thing that came across was how deeply significant the Battle of Leros is for the Lerians, and how genuinely grateful they were to people like my father who had put their lives at risk to try and defend them against the invading German forces. Maria particularly expressed a genuine deep respect and admiration for my father that moved me close to tears.

Franco showed me a couple of grainy film reels and some passages in a book that was in Greek and one in Italian which unfortunately I could not understand. He suggested I go to the library in Platanos, essentially the capital of Leros, where they have a copy of the Italian book in English that he would arrange to have them lend me, which I vowed to do.

Franco then phoned Thanasis, a young man who runs a private museum his father had established, and passed on my mobile number to him. A few moments later Thanasis messaged me with his number. A new contact, excellent. I replied and asked if he had heard of my father which he said he had, which felt quite remarkable. Maria urged me to ask to visit his museum which was by invitation only. I said I would later. I felt more comfortable with an invitation coming unbidden. Ten minutes later he messaged and invited me to come to the museum at 6.00 pm that evening, or the following day, Tuesday. I was delighted. I wasn’t sure how my day was going to unfold, and said I would get back to him later in the day.

Although the meeting with Franco had not really given me any new information, it had affected me deeply and I set off to the War Museum with the beginning of a far deeper sense of where I was, and how I was connected to this place through my father. Maria wished me well, and told me that as a sign of respect to my father, the entry to the museum would be free of charge.

I went up to the museum and was greeted at the entrance by the woman overseeing it that day “… ah, you must be the man we are waiting for!”, she smiled, and then showed me in. I tried to pay, or at least make a donation but it was politely and firmly refused.

The museum was interesting and certainly gave me a sense of the intensity of the Battle of Leros, however it left me wanting in some way. I took my time going round and watched the short film about the 52 day German bombing campaign and the invasion itself. I left feeling thoughtful but mildly dissatisfied; it felt to me that the museum lacked soul.

As suggested I drove to Platanos to seek out the library which I duly found, but it was closed, and after asking around I got the impression that it was unlikely to open. I was not too concerned as  it did not feel vital to see an English version of the book shown to me by Franco, so I headed back to my hotel.

I arrived back at my room feeling very positive and light. The morning had proved a good start to my Leros adventure, and I had a new contact. I made a bite to eat and was about to wash up when I was surprised by the phone in my room ringing. It was the hotel manager. The guy whose car I had hit the day before was here because he has since found a problem. My heart sank and I went down to talk with him. Apparently he now had an issue with his steering caused by the accident. I apologised profusely and gave him the contact details of the car rental company. The manager was very sympathetic and the car owner was very decent and relaxed too. They both tried their best to reassure me but I went back up to my room with my bubble thoroughly burst.

Kostas, from the rental company, then rang me, saying the car owner had called him and I would have to meet him at a garage to assess the damage to my car. A little later he messaged me a time and place. I was now certainly in no state of mind to visit the other war museum that evening, so I messaged Thanasis to arrange to meet him at 6.00 pm the next day.

In the late afternoon I drove off to Alinda and met Kostas and followed him to the garage. Everybody was very kind and relaxed, very much trying to put me at my ease. After a while they came up with a figure of €250 plus VAT to fix my car, and reassured me that the damage done to the other car would be covered by their insurance. I would simply have to pay the €250 and then claim it back from the booking agent, who I had insured it with.

I left feeling unsure of myself and stressed, hoping that all he said was true. The feeling that I was somehow being watched over and guided by heavenly forces was waning.

I got back to my room, freshened up and walked to Panteli for dinner, feeling preoccupied and a bit on edge.  A decent meal, a glass of wine and a pleasant return walk helped lift my spirits, and when I got back to my room I settled myself on my balcony with a beer feeling a little more content. All would be well.

I then heard a ‘clack’. My phone had slipped out of my pocket onto the balcony floor. I picked it up and saw the screen had gone black the phone was completely dead. My heart sank once again. The last time this had happened with my phone it was dead for several days until I managed to get it fixed. What was I going to do?! How will I find Thanasis the next day without Google maps? How would I keep in touch with Dorothy? What about my Ryanair boarding pass? What about the PIN numbers for my cards I keep secretly on there now I can’t use Apple pay? I suddenly felt very vulnerable and span out completely.

I messaged Dorothy from my laptop, she was kind and lovely and did her best to comfort me. I then climbed into bed to read and then hopefully sleep, praying my phone would come back to life. But I was wired, and stayed awake to well gone 2.00 am.

It is curious, as an anxious energy had been sitting within me since I had arrived. It felt very old and very deep, and somehow connected to my dad. My god, what fear and anxiety was he feeling while he was here and during all his other exploits during the war? This is not to diminish what I was feeling, for what I was feeling was, for me, in that moment, very intense and real. But I did become aware that this journey here was a big deal for me, and that I had been carrying an inherent anxiety all my life that comes rushing forth screaming when triggered. I now ask myself “what have I inherited from those who have gone before me, and in particular from my father, passed along in my DNA?”

I do not know, but I do know that I came here for a reason, and that this journey would be a roller coaster. Strap yourself in.

I eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

After a fitful and restless night I woke up the next morning just after 7.00 am, feeling very aware that my body clock would still be thinking it was more like 5.00 am. I hadn’t dropped off until gone 2.00 am, and had promised myself that there was no reason to be up and about early, hoping that would allow me to sleep for an extra couple of hours, but to no avail.

I was feeling in a very agitated state, not helped by the fact that my phone was still completely dead, and for those first thirty minutes or so I felt very negative and down, giving myself a hard time for everything that had gone awry.

Naturally enough, not wanting to feel that way, I fought it at first, but slowly some of the wisdom I have gained over the years began to assert itself, and I took time to simply sit with how I was feeling, and allowing it to be there without judgement or without trying to change it. I have learnt that the deep suffering I feel at times like these stems from the resistance to how I am feeling and my vain attempts to deny it or change it.

Moving into a space of acceptance did not make me feel upbeat or jolly, that’s not the way it works, but it did allow me to move forward and begin to make helpful step by step decisions on what to do next.

The previous day I had picked up supplies to be able to make my own breakfasts to enjoy quietly alone on the balcony. This proved to be a godsend as I did not feel like socialising, and anyway, sitting on my balcony in the early morning sunshine, looking out to sea was sublime, and helped soothe my soul.

By 10.30 am, when the hotel breakfast period was over I was feeling a little better and knew what I needed to do next. I would go down and see Nikos, the manager, and ask him to advise me on where I could go to have my phone, hopefully, repaired. Earlier I had been strongly resisting this as I had resolved the day before to put most of the day aside for myself as I would not be meeting Thanasis at his museum until 6.00 pm and I felt I needed a rest, and I was deeply resenting having to give this up to go looking for a phone repair shop. However, now I was past the resistance and saw that this is what needed to be done. I picked up my phone and was heading towards the door when I hear a ‘bling’ and my phone magically came back to life!

I was so happy, I had my free day back!

I made a cup of tea and then made a note on a piece of paper of all the vital pieces of information that I kept on my phone, and resolved to ensure that I would always be very aware of this phone’s vulnerability and ensure that it would not be dropped again, and to buy a new phone when I got home.

It being a Tuesday I had my regular midday Zoom session with the Man Program, 2.00 pm Greek time. I whiled away a pleasant few hours doing a little writing, reading and some of my favourite online puzzles; Wordle, Waffle and the Guardian crossword.

2.00 pm rolled around and I signed into the Zoom session, that lasted about 90 minutes. It was great to stay connected with the guys while away on this soul journey. I then went for a swim in the pool and treated myself to a crepe and a coffee, enjoying sitting in the shade on a lovely sunny, warm Greek afternoon in May.

Time rolled pleasantly by as I allowed myself to just be, which was, mildly bruised and melancholic, and then it was time to head to the Deposito Di Guerra, the museum run by Thanasis. I followed Google maps the best I could up a fairly small windy road that climbed up a hill but was unable to find the final turning off. I had clearly gone past it so eventually finding somewhere to turn around I headed slowly back towards where I had come from. I saw a motorbike coming up the other way that slowed down and then hung a sharp left and quickly disappeared from view. “That must be the turning”, I thought, and there was no way I was going to take it, as it switched back sharply, was very steep and very narrow. I had no desire to get stuck half way down and I was still nervous from my mishap on the previous Sunday. I carried on down the road and found a nice flat layby on the side of the road, so pulled over and parked.

I walked back to the turn off I had spotted earlier and headed off down it having no real idea where I was going, but more confident now that I was on the right track. It seemed like an age, but was probably only 5 or 10 minutes until I came to a dip and saw what looked like a significant gate and a path going upwards. I looked up and saw two guys looking down smiling away raising a hand in greeting. I had found it.

I was greeted warmly by Thanasis and his friend Nikos. Nikos, who speaks very good English, welcomed me with “So, you are David, Mike’s brother”. It took me a few seconds to take this in and he was delighted by my astonishment. It turned out of course that Nikos had been in touch with his and Thanasis’s very good friend Tony Rogers to tell him I was coming. Tony Rogers has spent many years researching the Dodecanese campaign and the Battle of Leros in particular, and had been in contact with my brother Mike over 20 years ago as Mike was the guardian of my father’s old battered leather attaché case that contained photos and papers from his war days, that had proved to be very valuable source material for a book Tony Rogers was writing at the time, Churchill’s Folly.

It is, as they say, a small world and this exchange started the formation of a bond. I was now the keeper of my dad’s battered leather case. When my mother died back in 2020, my brother Mike, my sister Georgie and I were all together at her house to clear it for sale, and Mike brought me the case to take care of, which became the beginning of the journey I was now on.

In November 2024 I received a letter out of the blue from John Lee, who was “…writing a book that will feature various heroic actions of your father in WWII”, and he was looking for any documents, letters or photos that I may have that would help in his research. Receiving this letter astounded me. How did he know who I was, and even more remarkable, how did he know my address? Somehow it all felt very significant.

I emailed him and filled him in on what I had, which at this stage was of course the attaché case and a host of photographs that my mother had kept meticulously in a small bureau that I was now also looking after. Without realising it, after my mother’s death I had become the keeper of the family archives. We exchanged a few emails and we arranged for him to visit me in Cork the following February.

John Lee duly came in February 2025 and it turned out that he had found me through the Register of Births and Deaths, as I had been the one to register my mother’s death, and as part of the registration I had given my address. I had moved since then but luckily the letter was forwarded to me by the new occupiers of my previous home.

We spent a fascinating couple of days going through my father’s papers, and a spark was ignited within me.

To me this was a remarkable chain of events. Even though I was the youngest child I had registered the death of my mother. I now had my dad’s attaché case, and my mother’s treasure trove of a bureau. Also, I had already embarked on a personal journey with a Men’s coach, Andy Nathan.

Earlier in 2024 my relationship with my beloved Dorothy had foundered and we had broken up. By the time that the letter arrived we were moving towards getting back together, but I knew we still had work to do, and I knew I particularly had work to do in relation to myself and what it is to be a man. It was something I had always struggled with but not really seen as clearly as I did then. It was time for me to do something about it, and I was lucky enough to come across Andy Nathan and to start on the deeply significant journey I am now on, and am still on with Andy’s Man Program.

About a year after receiving that letter from John Lee, I had a very clear realisation that I needed to go to Leros, and so here I was standing on a terrace in the hills of Leros meeting Thanasis and Nikos, two people who are guardians and keepers of the memories of those who gave so much on this tiny island in 1943 and beyond.

And they knew who my father was, and they honoured him, and in opening their hearts to me, they honoured me as his son.

So, Nikos welcomed me with a mischievous smile and Thanasis who spoke decent English but struggled a little with it, looked on smiling warmly.

I spent over two hours at that lovely museum talking with and being shown around by Nikos. The museum itself is quite small but very special. In contrast to the municipal museum, the Deposito Di Guerra had soul. I could feel the love, honour and respect that had gone into its creation. It is a testament to all the care and effort that Thanasis’s father Ioannis had put into creating it, and Thanasis and his good friend Nikos who were now the guardians of it.

I knew I had arrived, and at this stage I was feeling very tired. It had been quite a challenging few days emotionally and I was ready to slip away and get something to eat and go to bed.

Nikos was delighted to hear that I would be around for another 4 days before leaving, especially as he currently had some time off from work, and he promised to contact me again very soon to arrange to show me some of the sites connected to the Battle of Leros, and those places particularly significant to my father.

I waved goodbye and walked back to my car tired and happy. I stopped off at a tiny Taverna on my way back and had a lovely supper and a glass of wine with Phil and Liz who were staying in the same hotel as me, and happened to be eating there too.

What a day, from the low of waking feeling agitated, tired and despondent, to the high of meeting Nikos and Thanasis, to whom my father was a legend and a hero.

It was perfect.

After another very lovely breakfast on my balcony in the warm, early morning sunshine, I set off to meet Nikos in Lakki. I am feeling very pleased that I had got in breakfast supplies for the week, as most mornings so far I have been waking feeling tired and a little stretched. This trip was proving to be remarkable, and I was discovering, quite emotionally taxing, so it was good to have this quiet time to myself first thing in the morning.

After the short drive, I pulled up at our now regular meeting spot outside the cinema that was built by the Italians during the Mussolini era. Nikos was there ready and waiting. I parked and we had a chat. I wanted to explain that my energy levels were prone to drop rapidly after a few hours of activity, thus my needing to call it a day after our exploration of Meraviglia the evening before. He totally understood and was grateful for the heads up, asking that I let him know when I had reached my limit on any given day. We were rapidly developing a good understanding.

I decided the first place I wanted to go was Partheni. This is where my father would have led a group of SBS comrades to, through the rugged hills from Meraviglia shortly before the surrender on November 16^th 1943, to make good their escape, so as to be able to return to fight another day.

It was a pleasant, easy drive to Partheni in the north west of the island, 10 to 15 minutes at the most. Nothing is much further away than 10 minutes on Leros.

We parked up in a small, paved parking area where there was a small church and a small building where exiles were held during the junta of 1967 to 1974, the coup bringing them to power being a hangover of the divisions formed during the struggle against the Germans in WW2.

It is a beautiful spot, and the church is full of fascinating religious images painted by the prisoners. Very unique and different from the traditional style of the Greek Orthodox Church, they tell their own story and that of those incarcerated there. Sadly the church and the paintings were now falling into disrepair due to neglect by the municipality, something which deeply saddened Nikos. He is very much a man who believes in the preservation of the stories and places that tell of what has gone before, and he is very much a man that devotes his time to that work himself.

After checking out the church, we walked down the path to the bay, it was such a beautiful spot. A small cove, perfectly secluded, thus allowing boats to come in and leave with a good chance of not being spotted. Strategy, making plans for high risk operations, and carrying them out was my dad’s speciality, and he would have chosen this spot as it was an area where there was no German activity during the invasion. He would then have secreted away the boats and supplies that would be needed if defeat was imminent and evacuation necessary. It was a good job he did.

I could feel my dad in this place, and as I write this, I feel a certain pride and awe for the man he was, and what he did during that time. It is not the whole man, but it is a very important aspect of him, and one not to be ignored or forgotten. Fair play to you dad, you were quite a man.

Whilst walking down the track that led to the beach, a young couple drove carefully past and parked on the beach looking out to sea. Two young lovers taking some time to be alone together in this quiet, secluded spot. Did they know what had happened here 83 years ago? Probably not. In how many places have any of us unknowingly stood where dramatic events have unfolded in the past?

As we stood on the sands of this peaceful cove, Nikos spoke to me of this evacuation, and pointing back towards Meraviglia vividly described the treacherous journey it would have been during those last hours of The Battle of Leros raging on this small island.

He also spoke of another place, east of here and far more inaccessible, where dad would have returned time and time again during the German occupation, Agios Nikolaos. Nikos was hoping that his friend might be available with his 4WD to take us there before I leave the island.

It left me feeling quiet and sombre, and, leaving the young lovers in peace, we headed back to the car in silent companionship.

We then drove to Alinda Bay, which is now the main tourist spot on the island, and where my father would have first cruised into back in 1943. There is a documented story of a minesweeper that had been struck and damaged during The Battle of Leros and was stranded out at sea, leaving it and its crew highly vulnerable to enemy attack. My father had boarded it and oversaw makeshift repairs to its steering gear and successfully brought it back into the relative safety of Alinda Bay, thus saving the lives of those on board at the risk of his own.

Nikos had with him a book full of photos mainly from the German occupation. It was fascinating to see exactly where they were taken, the area not having changed massively since 1943. One of the photos was taken in the exact spot we were standing, in the background being the exact same wall, unchanged, with the now larger three trees still standing there.

We went for a coffee and a bite to eat. It was nice to talk and get to know each other a little better, and the lives we have lived. Life is all about connection.

After our break, I dropped Nikos back to Lakki. I was very aware that I only had two full days left before leaving on Sunday, and I wanted to make sure things didn’t just come to an end all of a sudden, so I suggested that on Saturday evening I would take him and Thanasis to dinner at the Paradisos, where I had had dinner the previous Saturday.

Nikos was delighted with the idea, especially as Manus who runs the place was a very good friend of his. He happily accepted the invitation, and said he would contact Thanasis to see if he was free.

We said our goodbyes, saying we would be in touch later about meeting the next day, hopefully to visit Agios Nikolaos if his friend was available.

I arrived back at my hotel happy and contented, and then walked up to the Paradisos to book a table for the Saturday night. It is a very popular place, and even at that time of year it can be busy on a Saturday when they have live music in the evening. Manus is very enthusiastic saying Nikos is his best friend, and that he knows Thanasis too; how did I meet them? I told him why I had come to Leros, and he was even more enthused, assuring me that we would be well taken care of and have a fabulous night.

When I get back to the hotel I get a message from Nikos to say that Markos can take us too Agios Nikolaos that evening at 7.00 pm or possibly the next evening. I feel into it for a while. These few days had already been quite remarkable for me and when thinking about heading out into the hills that evening I begin to get a sense of mild overwhelm, and decide that it would be a bridge too far for me that day.

I message Nikos back to suggest tomorrow evening would be better for me, and perhaps we could meet for a relaxed afternoon visit to the Castle of Leros, which, perched 600 metres above Leros town had great panoramic views, especially of Alinda Bay. He replies straightaway to say he totally understood and would let Markos know that tomorrow would be better, and yes, let’s visit the castle.

I relaxed for the rest of the afternoon, processing all that I had taken in since setting out for Leros, and in particular the last 48 hours. It was all wonderful and amazing, and also quite emotionally exhausting, and I definitely needed this downtime.

That evening I enjoyed the rest of the spaghetti with the sauce I had made, with a couple of beers and then headed for an early night and a satisfied sleep.

What would the next day bring?

My goodness, what a night. The weather forecast had predicted a storm to roll in during the night and into the first part of the morning. The wind was already beginning to pick up and some rain had started as I was getting ready for bed the evening before. Then during the night I was woken by a loud ‘clank’ and then a light coming on in my room. I lay there startled and wide eyed. I froze, thinking in my half-awake fear that someone had just broken into my room. I lay still and listened. All was quiet and the light went off again. The rain was lashing down and I nervously got up and went to the bathroom. No intruders. All was well.

Now more awake I lay in bed, and then heard the clank again, and the light came back on. Figuring out that it was the emergency light above the main door by the wee galley kitchen, I then realised it was the power going out and the emergency power cutting in. I managed to drift off again, my fright in the night subsiding, but kept being woken by the emergency power cutting in at regular intervals, and the rumble of thunder.

I finally got up at about 6.00 am and opened up the curtains and shutters, leaving the balcony door slid open and the mosquito mesh slider carefully closed. The rain was lashing down and the sea crashing into the shore as the strong winds thrashed at the trees, and thunder and lightning swirled through the hills. It was all very dramatic and exciting and somehow felt an appropriate, and fitting way to start the morning of my last full day on Leros.

I did my usual morning meditation practice and yoga stretches and ate my breakfast in my room as the storm subsided, giving way to overcast skies and rain showers. Just after ten I messaged Nikos to say unless something changed on the HQ tunnel front that I would stay at the hotel and catch up on my writing and note taking and meet him and Thanasis at the restaurant at 7.30 that evening.

I send the message, and there is only one grey tick which I think nothing of, assuming Nikos would get back to me in an hour or so. I decide to fiddle about and sort through my bits and pieces, getting them in order for packing. An hour goes by and there is still only one grey tick, and still only one grey tick after two hours. I am now beginning to get a little concerned especially as Nikos had had to cancel the evening before, I hoped he was okay and there was nothing wrong.

I told myself I was being daft.

The rain having stopped, and having trouble letting go, I headed off on a walk to Panteli to distract myself. By the time I returned at about 1.00 pm there is still only one grey tick and so feeling quite concerned at this stage I message Thanasis to ask if he knows if anything had happened with Nikos, and was he alright. He replied immediately saying he would try and contact him. He was back to me within five minutes; Nikos would contact me straight away.

A couple of minutes later Nikos messaged “…Oh man, I have just woken up! I guess I needed some sleep!”. Phew, I was relieved, all was okay. He also told me that there was no news on the HQ tunnel, and we agreed that with some advance notice we could arrange it for my next visit, along with a trip to Agios Nikolaos, the second evacuation site that my father returned to during the German occupation.

We confirmed our arrangements for that evening and I was delighted to hear that Thanasis would be able to make it. This all felt very good, and I was perfectly content with the way things had worked out as this trip had already gifted me way more than I had expected.

I sat for a little while allowing myself to see and process all the things that had come up for me that morning. The catastrophising, the slipping into waiting mode once again, and the inability to let go, and more importantly seeing the part of me that judged and criticised me for all of this.

I simply sat and observed the best I could, curious, and then moved on with the rest of my day.

I had some lunch and started to pack. At 14:21 precisely I hear a ‘ping’, and it is a message from Nikos, and everything has changed. Not only has the blue sky reappeared, but also Nikos has received a phone call from the Reserve Guard to say they will meet us at Meraviglia at 5.00 pm and open up the HQ tunnel for us! He messages me again shortly after to say his friend Markos wants to come along and tells me to be ready and waiting to be picked up at 16:40. I thank him profusely promising to be ready on time.

Wow! I could not believe it and feel so delighted I want to cry.

Happy and joyful, I finish most of my packing and am ready in plenty of time, and head down to the road to meet Nikos and Markos who have already arrived, Nikos smiling away as I walk towards them. Everybody is in fine form as I climb into the back of Markos’s 4WD. Nikos introduces me to Markos and I am surprised to hear him reply with a New York accent. It turns out that he was raised in New York city moving back to Leros with his parents when he was 12. “Thus the perfect English”, I say. “Yeah, but my vocabulary is a 12 year old’s!” he replies smiling. He then tells me that after the tunnel we will go to Agios Nikolaos! Things are getting better and better, especially when he reassures me he will guide us through it all and make sure we are at the Paradisos on time that evening.

We arrive at Meraviglia and meet a couple of guys from the Reserve Guard who are doing some maintenance work up there. It turns out that this is all very unofficial but they needed to be up there on that day anyway and wanted to help out. One of them slips off and returns shortly after to say it is now open. We walk together over the rough ridge that I had walked along with Nikos a few days before and scrambled down the slope to the entrance of the tunnel, and there it is, now with the iron grill door open, and in we go.

It is remarkable. About 6 feet wide and 8 feet high, running from west to east. Markos guides us through, each of us with a powerful flashlight. As we pass through Markos points out the large side rooms that have been carved out of the sheer rock, where supplies would have been stored and communications would have been set up. You can still see the remnants of the walls that had been built within these caverns. Just before the tunnel curves round to the left, there is a semi collapsed shaft that goes up through the rock to the outside world, and was where there would have been an observation platform, now impossible to access but you could just about see the light coming through where the opening would have been.

We all explore together and then the three of us pose for photos taken by a friend of Markos’s who we picked up on the way. It feels very bonding and profound to be here.

We head back out into the daylight, and the guys described the scene as it would have been on those days leading up to November 16^th 1943, when the German army finally overran the place and the British commander Brigadier Tilney was forced to surrender right there where we were standing at the entrance way to the tunnel. Markos then went back in on his own, and with the aid of skilled lighting techniques took some high quality photos and video footage.

Whilst he was doing this I walked away from the entrance and turned to the north east, looking towards Partheni. The sun shone and the wind blew a gentle breeze, and I was very quiet and contemplative, imagining my father being ordered shortly before the surrender to evacuate the SBS guys, and then leading them across the treacherous and dangerous terrain praying not to be spotted by the enemy, to Partheni, where he had already hidden the boats and supplies they would need to make good their escape. Had they been caught on the way, being SBS and SOE, they would have been shown no mercy.

Markos reemerged and handed me one of his powerful lights so I could take a bit of time to explore the tunnel on my own. I walked through slowly and reverently, talking softly to my dad, putting my hand on the hard rock where he may have put his hand, and stepping where he had stepped. It was a solemn moment.

I came out of the tunnel and joined the others, it was time to go.

We walked back to the car, stopping to thank the Reserve Guards who had made this possible, and headed off to Agios Nikolaos, dropping Markos’s friend off at her scooter on the way.

It wasn’t far to Agios Nikolaos, nowhere is very far in Leros, but it was a beautiful and dramatic route to the remote north east of the island, and the last stretch was a stunning, slow drive along a track that clung to the side of the mountain that would have been impossible without a four-wheel drive. We came around the top of the final ridge and the track headed steeply down with a view of the sea, where would be nestled Agios Nikolaos.

We carried on down and parked by a small church, a remarkably remote spot for a church. We had a look around this tiny structure, and went into the original section that would have been there in 1943. It was no larger than a small kitchen. There are small churches dotted all over the island, often built to give thanks for saving the lives of those in peril, particularly at sea.

Apparently this church was given as a landmark to head for, for the soldiers and partisans wanting to evade capture by the Nazis, especially the Italian soldiers who were fearful of being shot for resisting their former allies. It was incredible and peaceful and you could see why this was the place to hide. Looking back up the valley it was a lonely spot completely cut off from the rest of the island, with only a handful of goat farmers dotted here and there, and so likely to go undetected by the occupying forces.

In all over 900 men made it here to be rescued by my father and his team who would come in at night to this unseen and unknown bay to take them safely away to the Turkish coast. There are stories to this day of ghosts living here. It is thought that they originate from that time, when the escaping soldiers and partisans were hidden among the dense undergrowth, keeping silent and out of sight by day, and only emerging at night to get ready for and make good their escape. The few people living here would hear whispers and see shadows flitting through the bushes and trees in the dark. They believed they were ghosts.

I could sense those ghosts in this now peaceful and remote place, and I could feel the ghost of my father within me.

We were all quiet and thoughtfully subdued, and Markos led us back to the car. He had guided us through this incredible afternoon perfectly, making sure there was plenty of time for everything, no rush, and making sure we would make it to the Paradisos on time.

We drove back in relative silence. Agios Nikolaos had touched us all, especially Nikos who I was surprised to hear had never been there before.

By the time we arrived at the restaurant perfectly on time we were all chatting merrily again. It turned out that not only was Manus, the restaurant owner, Nikos’s best friend, but also Markos’s cousin. I invited Markos to join us but he had to go. I said my very grateful goodbyes and off he went. A kind and generous soul who I had never met before in my life giving me the gift of an afternoon I would never forget. What an incredible guide, what an incredible guy.

We entered the restaurant and were greeted warmly by Manus and shown to a lovely table overlooking the sea.

Thanasis arrived and we ordered food and wine. We talk and eat and drink. Then another bottle of wine appears on the table. We looked at each other bemused, none of us having noticed one of us ordering it. Manus points over to a man sitting on the other side of the restaurant who is smiling warmly and waving. He then comes over and placing his hand on my shoulder asks about my father. The word has got around. Nikos is delighted as it turns out he is somebody from the municipality that he had wanted to make a connection with. This has been a trip about connection.

We finish our food and Thanasis brings out the visitor’s book for his museum and I write a full page. He also produces a brand new copy of Swastika Over the Aegean by Tony Rogers. I have been trying to get hold of a copy of this book for years, and I insist on paying the going price for it, which is considerably less than a second-hand copy goes for on eBay, and ask Nikos and Thanasis to inscribe it in Greek.

We are all having a very merry time. Live music has struck up being played by Manus and the man who bought us the wine, and then another bottle arrives courtesy of the restaurant! We talk away having great fun, and fantasising about making a movie about the Battle of Leros with Tom Hanks, who, it turns out, has been to Leros and is very interested in the story.

Finally it is time to go. We hug and affirm we are now friends for life, and I promise to return, and certainly with Dorothy for the 85^th anniversary of the beginning of the Battle of Leros on the 23^rd September 2028, if not before.

I walk back to my hotel happily drunk and put the kettle on and send a message to Dorothy to tell her how happy I am, and she then phones and we have a great chat. I make my Camomile tea and drink it sitting on the balcony listening to the crickets and the sea before falling into bed and a deep sleep.