text: Captain George Sullivan applied more power to the B-25’s twin radial engines and pulled back on the control column. The versatile bomber climbed to avoid the thick toxic dark ash columns spewing out of Mount Vesuvius. The five able American airmen were accustomed to the deafening noise onboard *Lady Flamenco*, as well as to the strong odor of cordite and spent oil. It was late March 1944. The crew ate fresh eggs for breakfast before they took-off to bomb a concentration of Wehrmacht troops southeast of Rome. Their plane was hit by heavy enemy anti-aircraft flack during the shallow dive-bombing run near Monte Cassino, but no major damage was inflicted. Luck ran out for the crew aboard the bomber which followed. Their right wing was shattered by flack and the leaking fuel ignited. The aircraft exploded before it hit the ground. No parachutes were spotted. As soon as they were safe overland under Allied control, the P-51 Mustang fighter planes broke away and left the empty bombers to fly back unescorted to their airbase south of Naples. Sullivan’s heart rate stabilized. He peered out the cockpit window at the circular Mount Vesuvius. The eruption was into its sixth day. He was captivated by the streams of bright red lava which flowed without resistance into the defenseless and abandoned villages situated on the fertile foothills of the volcano. He questioned the event of a lifetime he witnessed. *Who inflicts more devastation, God or Man?* Sullivan glanced back into the cockpit and reviewed the familiar wall of dials in front of him. There was enough fuel to complete the return leg. He settled back in his seat. His confidence was at an all-time high with one more mission to fly to conclude the tour of duty. *I’m a lucky sucker. I’m going home soon!* Before starting the mandatory checks and slow descent for landing, Sullivan extended his hand into one of his sheepskin flight jacket pockets. He took out the worn-out black and white photograph of his high school sweetheart. The snapshot of Betty was with him wherever he traveled since leaving Madison County to join the Air Force. To most, she was an ordinary miss. For Sullivan, she was the most beautiful girl he ever met. He felt blessed with Betty and was set on marrying her as soon as he got back home. Sullivan turned the photograph around and read the handwritten message on the backside. *Go do your duty and come back to me. Love, B.* As *Lady Flamenco’s* tricycle gear touched down, the climatic impact of the Vesuvius eruption was felt as far away as northern Greece, about one thousand kilometers eastward. Black snow made of a mixture of feathery ice crystals and volcanic ash covered everything. For the locals of Kastoria, this weather phenomenon was perceived as a bad omen. Adonis was a dark-skinned athletic fisherman in his early twenties. He was not too tall but not too short either. The Italian occupation of Greece had little impact on his tranquil life. Almost every day, in the early hours, while the people of Kastoria slept, he and his fellow fishermen ventured out to the deeper waters of Lake Kastoria. Most times they came back with a good catch. By midday, they sold everything in the market and to the local tavernas. Afterward, they often gathered to eat a fresh village salad and drink ouzo. Life worsened in Kastoria when the Germans took over from the Italians in late 1943, but the lake rich in aquatic life saved the population from starvation. One day, a friend of Adonis invited him to attend a discreet gathering of aspiring Communists in one of the tavernas. He welcomed the escape from the dullness of occupation. At the small restaurant, Adonis locked eyes with a young lady. She had olive-colored skin, green eyes, and long pitch-black hair. She gave him a half-smile in return. Her name was Thalassa and they got to talking. Afterward, while walking home with his friend, Adonis declared that he had found his future wife. Thalassa fancied the courtship which followed. She welcomed the romantic excitement into her otherwise boring life. Thalassa came from an affluent family of mink furriers but only the males ran the business. She told Adonis she wanted to be equal amongst men. Communism was her means away from an adult life of home cooking, cleaning, and bringing up children. Thalassa was not bothered by her parent’s dislike of the poor fisherman. Her mother kept saying she had to find a man of equal or better social standing. Adonis’s mother wished her youngest son would stay away from Thalassa. She feared the rebellious political activities would get Adonis into trouble with the occupying forces. For Adonis, Communism was an excuse to be with the woman of his dreams. “For a few drachmas, a rotten collaborator will report you to the Germans. They will arrest you for being a Communist. They are not forgiving like the Italians. They punish...” As a passionate devotee of the Greek Orthodox Church, she even tried to convince him to make a lifelong commitment to God in order to stay out of trouble. “I am not going to become a priest or monk...the Church is not for me...” “Tfou, tfou, tfou...make sure you pray every morning before you head out to the lake!” The black snow continued to pile up that late March afternoon. Undeterred by the weather, Adonis and Thalassa strolled hand in hand down the boardwalk by the lakefront. Thalassa stopped in front of a wooden bench. They sat down. The sun was setting in front of them. She shifted toward Adonis, took hold of his rough-skinned hands, and focused his dark brown eyes. “Things are getting worse by the day...I have decided to join the Resistance in the mountains,” Thalassa said. She often expressed her wish to join the Resistance, but Adonis never attributed much to her desire. When it came to the occupation, they were not like-minded. “Let’s keep our heads down and wait for the war to end. We don’t have to prove ourselves to anyone...” “It is not about that. I heard the Jews will be rounded up tomorrow. I cannot be oblivious to the events unfolding around us.” “What about the two of us...our love? If we do not take up arms, the Germans will leave us alone. Is that not worth staying back for?” “What is our love without freedom and equality?” “You mean without equality and freedom...” Adonis realized it was pointless to argue with Thalassa. She wanted to be a liberated woman, to challenge tradition and breakaway from her close-knit family, and then fight for a free Greece. Marriage came last. As the sun disappeared below the horizon, they stood face to face. “Long life to you,” said Thalassa. “Be safe. I love you. Forever.” They kissed one more time and said goodbye. *Many years later...* An aging Adonis sat on the wooden bench by the lake. His mature skin was damaged by years of exposure to the sun while out fishing on the lake. These days he was too fragile to sail out to the deep waters, but from time to time he used a cane rod to fish along the shorelines. He took out small dual blade pocketknife and worked the carved initials on the backrest, just as he did many afternoons to make certain the engraving did not fade away. While Adonis chipped into the engraved initials, an old round lady sat down by his side. He stopped carving and shifted toward her with an expression of fatigue. She had wrinkles on her face, snow-white hair and blue eyes. Between them, they had countless stories to tell, but most were forgotten by now. Adonis, as polite as always, said hello. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Greek...” “Ah...I speak a little English. My name is Adonis.” “Nice to meet you. My name is Betty. I am a tourist from America.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead and drank from her bottle of water. “First time in Greece?” “First time in Europe. I am amazed at the colorful beauty of your country. Just like in the movies. Have you ever been to America?” “All my life I stay in Kastoria. I never go far away.” Betty could not decipher the carved Greek letters. “What are you doing with the knife?” “T for Thalassa and A for Adonis.” “Adonis is you...and so I suppose... Thalassa is a woman close to you?” Adonis looked out toward the Pindus mountains which rose up beyond the lake. “Thalassa was a brave woman with the Resistance. She was killed by Germans in the mountains many years ago.” “You loved her?” A single tear rolled down his cheek. His lips trembled and he placed his hand over his heart. “Yes, very, very much.” Driven by an impulsive desire for human contact, Betty reached out and placed her soft hand above his. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I also lost my love during the war. George was a pilot. He was killed in Italy on his last mission...every day I think of him and what could have been...” The two elders cried as if they had shared a lifetime. They both knew that tears do not extinguish the memories or make the pain of loss go away. “I wish I had gone with Thalassa into the mountains...but I was not brave. I was just a fisherman.