After two hours of being bored by foreign speeches and absurd ceremony whilst having the cobwebs blown from us and being washed with rain, the party ended, the uniforms were saluted, the Greek Army marched away with their band and we made our way to the bus. We had a date at the Greek Army Officers Club for lunch in Polycastro and a lovely buffet lunch it was with copious wine to go with it. I was kitted out in Connaught Ranger blazer and tie trying to eat my salad and cold meats when a French Admiral in his whites and medals galore came over to engage in conversation, not a trace of a French accent but there was a trace of South Dublin. He had recognised the crest on my blazer, his father he told me had been in the Munster Fusiliers and that he had spent his early life in Dalkey in South Dublin Bay. He told me that he was Naval Attache to the French Ambassador in Athens and that his name was Colman. Who said the tradition of the Wild Geese had gone, here was one alive and kicking in front of me. We chatted for some minutes until a small Greek Army officer came up and he morphed into French with ease. A nice chap and a pleasure to talk to.
After lunch and it was back on the bus and we headed for the Doiran Memorial, just on the Greek side of the Macedonian border. overlooking Lake Doiran and most of the adjacent countryside. A most imposing setting where the Commonwealth War Graves Committee were holding a centenary commemoration. It was a Menin Gate type of memorial listing the names of the dead who fought at Kosturino in early December 1915 who had no known grave. It was clear looking at the list that the Connaught Rangers with 110 names had taken the biggest beating of all the regiments there. The poor 5th Battalion having been reduced to 135 officers and men coming off Gallipoli from the 800 who had landed 55 days previously and having been rebuilt to a strength of 1000 officers and men were again laid flat with a 50% casualty rate. No wonder Acting Lieutenant Colonel Henry Jourdain had a breakdown shortly after Christmas and had to be shipped home to England.
After a quick visit to the Greek Cemetery, we stopped at Doiran Military Cemetery at the bottom of the hill where only one Connaught Ranger was buried, 5375 James Smith from Bellshill in Glasgow was buried. He had been captured by the Bulgarians at Kosturino on 7th December 1915, had taken ill whilst a POW and had been repatriated but had died of pneumonia on 10th October 1918 nearly a year after the 5th Battalion had left these shores for Palestine. In fact they were at that time taking another beating at Cambrai in France during the latter days of the war.
Our last stop on a busy day was a visit to the Indian Cemetery on the Monastir Road out of Thessaloniki. An interesting place where Buddhists and Sikhs are commemorated along with Muslim soldiers. They were all part of the Indian Army of that time. The Muslims all died at the end of the war1918-1920 of flu or dysentry and were buried here in this little cemetery. The names of the Sikh and Buddhist dead are commemorated on monuments. These men died and according to the Indian lady from the British Museum were accorded full religious rites on the battlefield where their dead were burnt on funeral pyres in the field, each Battalion being given a ton of wood and 30 gallon of parrafin for each corpse to ensure full incineration.
Apostolos continued to plague me with his high volume non-perfect English and he was threatening to take us to his son’s restaurant that evening. I vowed to act alone so I sloped off early before the crowd had gathered and ate alone and with regret as it happened. My choice of restaurant was not good and I was charged €35 whereas the son’s restaurant was excellent and was in with the cost of the trip but at least I was remote from the dreaded Greek.
After two days in Thessaloniki my first impressions of the town and country are strangely positive. A great cafe/entertainment area down by the sea front, fine restaurants, great bars, crowds of people, although the end of September is a little out of season. Lots of expensive shops on the main thoroughfares although few customers. However as you tramp uphill from the waterside area, poverty overwhelms, closed down businesses, poor roafds, discarded rubbish all over the place. The new Greece is obvious, a city of one million people soon becomes a city of 950,000 living on the breadline. New cars are few and far between, old bangers in abundance. On top of all of that is a city that is still trying to find its identity. It has been Greek, Macedonian, Roman, Turkish and has reverted to Greece but with remnants of its mongrel past all around. Although there is no racial violence, there is no trust between factions. In the country poverty is all to evident, lots of nothing more than shacks in agricultural areas, very, very few fancy houses. Compared to Ireland, which is also on the lower end of the European economic slopes, Greece is many years down the hill.
Agriculture although abundant and necessary looks as though it does not pay. However the food on display looks a lot healthier, mounds and mounds of fresh vegetables and fruit available everywhere and unbelievably cheap. Supermarkets are few and far between with the French chain Carrefour and the Gertman Lidl to the fore. Booze the same price as Ireland, food 75% less, Diesel is €1.17 per litre, petrol €1.47 but wages at best are 50% below Ireland’s. I doubt for the normal 5/8th that Greece is the place to be at the moment. Empty half built structures litter the countryside and not half built last week but ten or twelve years in the past. The economic downturn happened a long time ago.
Day 3 starts with a visit to Mikra Cemetery where two Connaught Rangers lie. John Holland Fairchild 20367 who was really a Devon Yeomanry man but was attached to the Connaught Rangers and was left behind by them when they exited for Palestine in late 1917. He died of dysentry on 1st March 1918. Also there was the grave of Michael Short 10603, Michael was from Enniskerry in Co Wicklow, a pre-war soldier who had obviously served through the Gallipoli Campaign. After Kosturino the 5th Battalion were sent to a quiet place, Rendina on the other side of the peninsula. Whilst unloading stores at the shoreline Michael shot himself, he died three days later in hospital on 30th December 1915, obviously the trauma of battle must have not only affected his mind but also his aim. After the war his grave at Rendina was exhumed and Michael was re-interred at Mikra Cemetery in Thessaloniki.