THEN, one night, we all got together at a friend's house. No strangers, that is, no potential informers. And the old spirit came back. For hours we told one another the latest anti-junta jokes. The Greeks have a biting sense of humor. When the coup came, the terrified people, totally unprepared for resistance, reacted with the only weapon it then had-ridicule.

"Have you heard the latest? They arrested a man who was accused of making up jokes. They brought him to Pattakos. -- Are you the man who started that joke about the old men sitting on the park bench? -- Yes, my general. -- Did you start the joke about the four meatballs, one of which was a microphone? -- Yes, my general. -- Did you tell the story about the dog who went to Italy so that he could bark freely? -- Yes, my general. -- And why did you do all that? Don't you know this government enjoys the support of 98 per cent of the nation? -- Excuse me, my general, I never started that joke."

We exchanged news. A girl, just back from Athens, cried as she recounted what happened at the ancient theater below the Acropolis. A young actress, Greece's leading interpreter of classical tragedy, was bowing to the audience, when a government minister stepped up to the stage to congratulate her. She ignored him and kept bowing to the wildly cheering crowd, until he turned around and left.

They discussed the current situation. One of them, a high-school teacher, was particularly gloomy -- all of Papandreou's American-oriented educational reforms had been revoked. The desiccated old system of instruction was being re-established, complete with "purist" or academic Greek, as the obligatory school language. The "purist" is an artificial language despised by all artists and writers; Kazantzakis once went to jail for agitating against it. But those who want to "purify the nation" have made it a symbol of their crusade.

All high schools, both public and private, now have to give compulsory courses in "The Meaning of the National Revolution." Teachers of doubtful loyalty are usually put in charge--either to break them morally or to snare them into a faux pas that will lad them in a desert island. My friend had found an ingenious solution: he reads to his class the most outrageous speeches of Pattakos and the rest of the junta, thus exposing them to silent ridicule; any extra time is used to analyze the grammar and syntax of the speeches.

The political situation has had serious repercussions on Athens University. All professors have lost tenure and may be fired by government decree. As the underground resistance movement grows, more and more of their students are arrested and disappear. Rumor has it that a certain specified number of military officers' sons and daughters will henceforth be admitted to the University automatically, regardless of their scores on the stiff admissions rest. This should ensure the presence of a vigilant and militant pro-government faction in the University and, ultimately, a reactionary educated group to take power in the government.

Private employees, anticipating economic collapse, are afraid for their jobs. Unemployment is already wide-spread, as both government and private business continue to fire "unnecessary employees" as well as "troublemakers," regardless of an official ban on dismissing workers. About a third of the government's understaffed Archeological Service has been discharged as a measure of economy. There is no unemployment compensation and, of course, no free labor union to protest.

A frequently discussed subject is the Civil Service. The permanence of government employees, guaranteed by the Constitution, has been suspended. The future of 200,000 civil servants will be determined on an indivdual basis by special committees. Heavy emphasis will be placed on a questionnaire that all civil servants have had to fill out. This questionnaire is so incredible, that the government made special efforts to prevent its publication. It is marked "Top Secret," and a single copy was issued to each employee, to be filled out on the spot. When I saw a copy in the United States, I could understand the fear and uncertainty of all my friends: it is virtually impossible to get a "perfect score."

Probably half the University students had been members of the now outlawed National Students Union. And of course, it's impossible not to have had contact with a "communist sympathizer." Any mildly liberal past is cause for alarm. McCarthy has been redeemed!