Operation: Bitter Harvest (Chapter 23)

Aid and Comfort

The soles of my shoes twisted in awkward angles as they slid across the cobblestone of Gjirokaster’s streets leading up to the castle. It was a holiday, meaning the entrance was free of charge, attracting almost every Albanian with Gjirokaster blood.

Kids ran through the castle corridors past the World War II guns that were kept in the museum inside. The thin chain draped in front of the exhibits didn’t keep the brave from climbing on the anti-aircraft guns or a tank from World War II, or even the T-33 in the outer courtyard.

I had pictures with all of them, but still couldn’t resist an updated selfie, especially next to the US spy plane, the sun shining warmly in the sky.