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Back The Black Earth Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. THE BLACK EARTH
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. BOOK I
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. BOOK II
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. BOOK III
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  42. BOOK IV
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  54. About the Author
  55. By Philip Kazan
  56. Copyright

There are lots of Greek soldiers here and it is clear that things are very bad in Greece. We hear of a famine in Athens and there seems to be a huge argument going on between the great and powerful about sending in food. I don’t suppose you’ll find it very amusing when I tell you it’s even made the London newspapers. Lots of talk, not much action. It’s terribly worrying to think of you there but not knowing what you are doing, what you are feeling, if things are good or bad. I hope so much, my darling, that they aren’t too bad. But when I scan the newspaper for the word Greece and always find it next to words like starvation and massacre, I feel nothing but dread. I think of you singing, of your voice which I’ve never been able to describe in words and which I’ve tried to paint (yes, some people hear voices, I’ve been painting them instead), and then I think that perhaps there’s nothing for you to sing about at the moment, not even those cheerful Piraeus songs full of doom and terrible behaviour (as your nanny might have said). I want to picture you sitting at that funny kitchen table in the sunshine, reading Mapp and Lucia. Maybe Pavlo is in the next room, playing one of his 78s – Count Basie? No, because you don’t like it. I don’t want you frowning when I walk in on you. There’s light slanting in across your shoulders, your hair. The chickens are scratching out in the neighbour’s yard. You look up from your book and give me the priceless gift of your smile. I’d fight the entire Afrika Korps with a penknife just to see that. But then we’d have to send Pavlo out on an errand, pretty damn quick.

Well, my dearest, I’d better sign off. I know that if this does by some miracle come into your hands, it won’t be possible for you to reply. But if you happen to be somewhere looking south, blow me a kiss. Send it flying across the sea like one of those butterflies I told you about. I can see it now: dodging the Stukas, whizzing past battleships, fluttering over the heads of all the stupid, angry men who are keeping us apart, until it’s here brushing against my lips. Be safe, dear Zoë. Be careful (I know I’m a fine one to talk). Try to hope – if your Greek side can’t manage it, enlist the English side.

With all my love,

Tom

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE