Blood of Honour

15

Captain Peploe broke the news shortly after midday on Wednesday, 28 May, having just returned from Battalion Headquarters. He had called Lieutenant McDonald, Tanner and Woodman into the office at Company HQ, poured four shots of brandy, then said, ‘It’s all over. I’m afraid we’re being evacuated tonight.’ He stood, his chipped shot glass in his hand, brows knotted.

Tanner slapped the wall. ‘I don’t bloody believe it!’ he said, his voice rising in anger. ‘We’ve barely even bloody tried here!’

‘It’s not us,’ said Peploe. ‘It’s the main force in the west, around Canea. The counter-attack at Galatas failed, they had to fall back and yesterday the C-in-C gave the order for them to withdraw to Sfakia.’

‘Where the bloody hell’s Sfakia?’ demanded Tanner.

‘On the south coast somewhere. Apparently there was little chance of the navy getting the boys out from Suda, so they’re crossing country.’

‘And now it’s our turn,’ said McDonald.

‘Well, we can’t very well stay here if the main force goes.’

‘So what’s the plan, sir?’ asked Woodman.

‘We tell the rest of the men at eight p.m. Secrecy is to be maintained – we don’t want Jerry getting wind of it until we’re safely away. A naval evacuation force will arrive tonight, at around eleven o’clock. We and the Black Watch are going to be the last to leave.’

‘Jesus, what a balls-up,’ muttered Tanner.

Peploe looked down at his glass. ‘Yes. A lot of wasted effort. A lot of wasted lives. Christ knows what the Greeks will think of us now – I’m afraid they’re being left here. We’ve told them there’s no room for them.’ There was silence in the room, except for a lone fly buzzing lazily. ‘Anyway,’ said Peploe, at length, and raised his glass, ‘there it is. Here’s to our safe return to Egypt, and as Old Man Vigar said, at least we can be proud of what we did here. The battalion – and B Company in particular – has done well. Very well.’

Fourteen hours later, Tanner and the rest of the men of the 2nd Battalion were milling around the inner harbour, awaiting their turn to be lifted. The news, when Peploe had told them earlier that evening, had been greeted with stunned silence, although Tanner, who had been watching Lieutenant Liddell, had noticed the expression on the subaltern’s face: eyes closed, a heavy breath – thank God – and then a glance up that had caught Tanner’s steely gaze. Liddell had quickly looked away.

In truth, the men had had time to get used to the idea and the prospect of improved rations, fresh supplies of kit and the inevitable leave in Cairo had lifted their spirits considerably. From the harbour walls they watched the two big cruisers, Orion and Dido, set sail, followed by three of the accompanying destroyers, all now crammed with troops. Along the mole extending out from the Venetian fort, men of the Black Watch were boarding two more destroyers; next, and finally, it would be the turn of the Yorks Rangers.

So far the evacuation had gone entirely to plan. The Germans did not appear to have realized what was going on. Guns had earlier been destroyed, and stores booby-trapped; the night had been quiet, barely a shot to be heard. The biggest noise had been the singing and shouting of some of the Australians, already drunk as they lined the mole. Around 2.15 a.m., as the Black Watch’s ship inched away from the outer harbour, two more destroyers sailed in to take its place.

The battalion was ordered to move down, past the fort and out onto the mole, with B, C and D Companies directed to board HMS Karachi, while Headquarters and A Companies were put onto HMS Kimberley. Once again, the men were directed onto the lower decks, except for 1 Platoon, whom Tanner volunteered to help with fire duties. It had been a self-interested decision: for once he felt in the mood for company and wanted Sykes nearby. He and Sykes watched as the brigadier and his staff boarded Kimberley.

‘I thought he was going to be good,’ said Tanner. ‘The way he hid those guns before the invasion – that was a canny move. But he damn well blew it here.’

‘D’you think he knows it?’

‘I really have no idea at all how these blokes work.’

By 2.45 a.m. the evacuation was complete. Not a single man remained on the harbour. Tanner, standing at the stern of the ship with Sykes, leaned on the railings smoking a cigarette and looking back at the town silhouetted against the night sky. He could not stop thinking about Alopex and how he had chided them during that first meeting in the café. Running away again. Bloody hell.

‘I know what you’re thinking, sir,’ said Sykes, ‘but you’ve got to forget about it. Maybe one day, when the war’s over, you can come back and give him a good kicking then.’

‘He was right, though, wasn’t he?’ He exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘I’m absolutely bloody sick of sodding evacuations.’

‘So am I, but I can’t feel too sorry to be leaving. Not if I’m honest. I don’t think islands are my natural habitat. I feel too cooped up, penned in. And that bloody smell.’ He whistled. ‘You’ve got to admit it was bad walking down to the harbour.’ Little of the rubble had been cleared away since the bombing of the town. Those left trapped among the debris had soon begun to rot in the heat. Sewers had also been broken, and the combined stench of decomposing flesh and sewage had been overpowering. Most of the men had marched through the town with handkerchiefs around their faces.

‘It was a bit ripe,’ agreed Tanner.

Sykes breathed in deeply. ‘Sea air – that’s better.’

‘But I still feel bloody terrible about leaving those poor bastards. It was a half-decent place when we got here, but now …’ He let the sentence trail.

‘And they’ve got the Jerries to deal with.’

Tanner saw the ropes being cast off from the other destroyer with Headquarters and A Companies on board. Moments later, it began moving away from the mole.

‘Why aren’t we moving?’ Sykes asked.

‘God knows,’ said Tanner. He looked around and saw that some of the crew seemed restless, then noticed a caique leave the inner harbour and chug past them slowly. He wondered who it was, and took out his binoculars for a better look, but it was too dark to pick out any of the features on the men’s faces. He watched it leave the harbour, its masts silhouetted against the sky.

The minutes passed but still there was no sign of any movement. Peploe appeared beside them. ‘We should be off soon,’ he said.

‘What’s going on, sir?’

‘It seems they were attacked as they left Alexandria. They would have had another cruiser, but it was hit and had to turn back. A couple of the destroyers also suffered near misses, including this one. There’s something up with one of the engines – I’m not quite sure what – and they’ve decided to try and fix it.’

Tanner looked at his watch again. It was now a quarter past three. ‘Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t they? It’ll be first light in just over an hour.’

‘I said the same to the lieutenant I’ve just been talking to. Apparently they very nearly put us onto Kimberley, but they reckoned that whatever the problem was could be quickly resolved so didn’t in the end. Only now, of course, it’s taking longer than they thought.’

Suddenly, out at sea, away to the north-east, they heard a dull boom.

‘What was that?’ said Sykes. ‘A mine? Or a torpedo?’

‘I wouldn’t like to say,’ said Peploe. ‘Let me try and find out.’

He returned a short while later. ‘It was Imperial,’ he said. ‘The other ship damaged coming from Alexandria. Her steering gear had jammed so they had to get everyone off, then torpedoed her.’

‘That’s a comfort,’ said Tanner. ‘Bloody hell.’

As the minutes continued to pass with no apparent sign of any movement, Tanner began to feel increasingly agitated. He was not alone – as he and Sykes discovered, as they impatiently moved around the stern.

‘Hope you lads have still got some ammo left,’ said one of the Y Gun crew.

‘I hope your aim’s good, mate,’ Sykes replied.

‘Jesus,’ said another in the gun crew. ‘What a sodding dog’s breakfast. The others’ll be halfway back to bleedin’ Alex by now, and we’re still bloody well stuck in this dump.’

‘Get a bloody move on!’ shouted another, leaning away from the gun and looking down towards the deck.

It was well after four when they finally got going, which produced a loud, ironic cheer from the men on deck. Already, however, the first faint lightening of the horizon was discernible to the east, and by the time they were clear of the harbour, day was dawning rapidly. As they passed the island of Dia, just to the north-east of Heraklion, the tip of the sun had appeared, casting golden streaks across the sea.

No one said much; the grousing had stopped. It was a waiting game, as every man knew. If they were lucky, they still might not be picked up – it was early after all. And if they were spotted, at least there was only one of them – a single small destroyer, weaving at more than thirty knots, was a difficult target to hit.

But it was not to be. Just after five, Stukas appeared from the east, faint dots at first, quickly becoming angry wasps, and then, moments later, they were over them, diving down, sirens screaming, engines straining, and the pompom and twin cannons pumping out shells towards them. While the gunners tried to train their guns, the men on deck ducked – all except Tanner, who, with his anger rising, had unslung his rifle and begun firing as the first Stuka came out of its dive. It was too far away, he knew, but it looked bloody close, so he aimed and fired all the same. The first bombs fell well short, huge plumes of water erupting into the sky, and so did the second batch as Karachi veered dramatically. More bombs tumbled around them, the spray lashing across the deck. Suddenly a Stuka was hit, smoke and flame erupting from the engine. Screaming, it plunged into the sea. The men cheered again but then two more bombs were falling towards them.

‘Christ!’ said Tanner, as he realized they were going to hit. The first disappeared straight down the funnel, while the second seemed to hit the bridge. The two explosions were almost simultaneous, one a dull, muffled roar, the other a deafening crash. The ship jolted, and Tanner clutched at the railings to steady himself. A ball of angry flame and smoke engulfed the bridge and then there was a second explosion. Flame erupted out of the funnel and the ship shuddered again, more violently this time, and, with a creaking and groaning of tearing, grinding metal, the deck started to move. Men were shouting as bombs continued falling around them, Stukas diving and whirling like a swarm of bees. For a moment Tanner was too stunned to move, the noise overwhelming.

The ship lurched, and Tanner glanced around and saw Peploe, McAllister and others from 1 Platoon, all clambering onto the rails. The gun crews were hurling several rubber dinghies overboard while, further along, lifeboats were being lowered.

‘Jack!’ called Sykes, beside him. ‘We’ve got to jump!’

Keeping his rifle on his back, but discarding his helmet and his Schmeisser, Tanner ducked under the railing, saw Sykes leap clear, then took a deep breath and jumped after him.

The cold sea enveloped him and he immediately felt his clothes and kit clinging to him heavily as he plunged downwards, then forced his way back to the surface. He knew he had to get away from the ship. Men were already filling the dinghies and clinging to the sides but he began to swim away, conscious of Sykes beside him.

The ship groaned again. As Tanner rolled onto his back he saw more men leaping from its side. Already his legs felt heavy, but he knew he had to keep moving – there was no time to discard his boots and kit just yet.

Sykes was gasping, arms flailing in a loose crawl, as behind men screamed and shouted. Suddenly there was a deafening tearing and grinding of metal and the ship began to turn in on itself, slowly at first, the stern and prow inching clear of the water. Tanner heard the screams of men still trapped on board, but then both ends of the ship rose high out of the sea, and seemed to hang there a moment before plunging towards the water with an agonizing screech and groan. Desperate screams from those left on board carried out across the sea, and Tanner watched as several men, arms waving helplessly, and a dinghy full of others, were sucked down with the sinking vessel.

Suddenly the ship was gone, the screaming had stopped, and all that was left were bits of flotsam and a swirling mass of white bubbles and surf.

The Stukas had flown off, their task complete. Treading water, Tanner looked around. Nearby several dinghies were filled with men and more clung to the sides. Tanner saw several of the Y Gun crew in a dinghy no more than thirty yards away, then spotted McAllister and Mercer and, clinging to the rope around it, Captain Peploe, Hepworth, Chambers and several others from 1 Platoon. Further away, one of the lifeboats was still picking up men, who were calling out, desperate to attract attention.

Tanner swam towards Sykes, who was treading water and trying to get rid of some of his kit. ‘You all right, Stan?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been better,’ he muttered. He turned his head towards a second dinghy. ‘We should try and grab onto that one.’

They swam towards it and found Bell and Woodman already inside, along with a few others of the ship’s crew. Lieutenant McDonald and Dicky Bonner were hanging on to the outside.

‘Ah, hello, you two,’ said McDonald, as Tanner and Sykes reached out and grabbed the ropes around the sides of the rubber boat. ‘Lovely morning for a swim.’

‘’Ere, sir,’ said Bell, as he noticed Tanner’s rifle still sticking up from his back. ‘Don’t you think you might be better off ditching that?’

‘Not at the moment, Tinker, no,’ said Tanner. ‘I’m not giving up this rifle that easily. I might still need it when we get back on land.’ He followed the others’ gaze. Crete seemed an unnervingly long way off. ‘Come on, boys,’ he said. ‘It’s only, what, six or seven miles? We can make it, can’t we?’ He looked around. Men were still swimming and flailing in the water. ‘Where’s Mr Liddell?’ He spotted him before his question could be answered, some forty yards away, clearly struggling.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Tanner. ‘Stupid bugger can’t even bloody well swim properly.’ He sighed, then said to Bell and Woodman, ‘Look after my stuff, will you?’ He passed up his rifle, then his boots, and finally his belt, pack and bayonet. ‘Drop any of them over the side, and I’ll bloody tip you over as well.’

He immediately felt light and stronger, and swam quickly towards Liddell, reaching him just as the lieutenant’s head dipped below water. Grabbing him, he put an arm around his chest and hoisted him up again. Liddell spluttered.

‘Easy does it,’ said Tanner, and began slowly making his way back towards the dinghy.

But just then, he heard a whir coming from the east that suddenly grew louder so that before he had realized what was happening two Messerschmitt 109s were hurtling towards them, diving out of the sun at high speed. They opened fire, lines of bullets spurting out small fountains of water. Tanner ducked, briefly letting go of Liddell, as bullets hissed through the water around him. Pushing himself up to the surface again, he grabbed Liddell once more, watched as the Messerschmitts climbed and headed on west, then heard cries. Both the dinghies near him were all right, but one of the lifeboats had been raked, several men hit, and now the vessel was sinking.

‘Bastards!’ said Tanner, then heard Liddell groan. Turning to look at his charge, he realized the water around them was colouring with cloudy dark blood. Liddell groaned again, and Tanner saw that blood was pulsing from his shoulder.

Damn it! Tanner cursed to himself, then grimacing, swam as quickly as he could back towards the dinghy, even though his arms and legs ached like hell with the effort of swimming and holding up Liddell.

‘Here!’ he said, as he reached out and grabbed one of the ropes. ‘Help me get him in. He’s been hit and he’s losing blood. Tinker, you’re going to have to duck out and make room for Mr Liddell.’

‘That’s all right, sir,’ said Bell. ‘I know my place.’

‘Just be bloody grateful you’re in one piece,’ growled Tanner. ‘Who’s still got some dressings?’ He managed to fish out two sodden packets from his denims, as others did the same. ‘Woody, see what you can do. That hole needs filling up quickly.’

‘I’ve been hit,’ mumbled Liddell. ‘Christ, I’ve been hit. Oh, God.’ Tears ran down his face.

‘You’re all right, sir,’ said Woodman. ‘Don’t you worry.’

‘Where’s that other dinghy?’ said Tanner. ‘And give Mr Liddell some water. There’s a full bottle on my webbing.’

‘Not far,’ said Woodman.

‘Then holler over to them, Woody,’ said Tanner. ‘We should try and stick together.’

Those outside the dinghy began kicking while those inside used their arms as paddles. They were slowly drawing towards the other dinghy, when a sailing boat was spotted coming towards them. Immediately the men started shouting and waving.

‘She’s coming towards us!’ said Woodman.

‘Good,’ said Sykes, ‘cos I’m getting bored of this already.’

Tanner now saw the boat: it was a caique very much like the one he had seen leaving Heraklion earlier. The two dinghies were only yards apart by the time the vessel drew towards them, and Tanner now saw that Captain Vaughan was standing at the prow alongside another British officer, ready with a rope. A wave of relief swept over him.

‘Alex!’ called Peploe, from the other dinghy.

‘John?’ called Vaughan, incredulously. ‘I had no idea it was your lot. Here.’ He lobbed the rope. ‘Those outside the dinghies, climb aboard. The others stay where you are. We’ll tow you.’

‘We’ve got a wounded man here, sir,’ called Tanner. ‘He’d be better off aboard.’

‘All right,’ said Vaughan, then recognized Tanner. ‘Good God, it’s you!’ he said. ‘Look, bring the dinghy alongside and we’ll get him out of there.’

The dinghy nudged alongside the caique. Woodman and the others in the life-craft carefully lifted Liddell, who groaned and cried out in pain. But Vaughan and one of his crew, a leathery-looking Englishman, took hold of him and hoisted him aboard.

‘Get him in the cabin, Cle,’ Vaughan said to his companion, ‘and give him a shot of morphine.’

Tanner now clambered aboard, pulling himself up with great effort and rolling over the side onto the deck. Getting to his feet, he leaned over and helped Sykes and then Bell up too, before asking Woodman to pass up his kit.

‘Damn glad to get these back,’ he said, clutching his things. ‘We worked hard to get those boots, Stan. I hated the thought of having to chuck them.’

‘I lost my rifle, though,’ said Sykes. ‘We’re going to be a bit short of firepower once we get back on land.’

Tanner patted him on the back. ‘Something will crop up. We’ll be all right.’

The two dinghies were roped to the back of the caique, and then they picked up a third, and finally the two surviving lifeboats. They spent a further twenty minutes sweeping the sea for any more survivors. A further six men were picked up, but many more floating corpses were left in the water.

‘How many men were on the ship?’ Vaughan asked Peploe and Tanner.

‘Three companies, plus the crew. Over five hundred.’

‘And my head count comes to eighty-two. Jesus.’

Peploe swallowed and rubbed his eyes. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘All those men. They were alive half an hour ago and now …’ He shuddered. ‘I’ve lost most of the company.’

‘What happened?’ asked Vaughan.

‘The ship went down in about four minutes,’ said Tanner. ‘She had her back broken.’

‘And the captain?’

Tanner shook his head. ‘A second bomb hit the bridge.’

Vaughan scanned the sky. ‘I’m sorry. But if we want to survive as well, we need to get to land quickly.’ They stepped around the men crammed on the deck and moved over to the bearded, wild-looking skipper, standing beside an ageing Greek sailor at the wheel and the other British officer. ‘This is Commander Mike Cumberlege,’ he said, ‘and Lieutenant Colonel Nick Hammond.’

Peploe looked at Hammond. ‘Pleased to see you again, sir.’

‘Again?’ said Hammond.

‘I attended some of your lectures at Cambridge, sir, before the war.’

Hammond smiled. ‘Well, well, well. I wish we could be meeting in happier times. I’m sorry about your loss.’

‘Thank you for picking us up,’ said Peploe. ‘I’m not sure we’d have all made it otherwise.’

‘We nearly didn’t,’ said Vaughan. ‘We’ve had to leave Commander Cumberlege’s caique in Suda and commandeer this instead.’

‘Miaoules is a fine vessel in many ways,’ said Cumberlege, ‘but the engine’s on the blink, I’m afraid. Cracked cylinder head.’

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Peploe.

‘Might be all right,’ said Cumberlege, ‘if we take her steady. But we’re going to head straight into Limenas. It’s tucked into a headland about twenty-five miles east of Heraklion, it’s – how shall I say? – discreet. I’m afraid it’s way too risky to keep going along this north coast today.’

‘Thank you,’ said Peploe.

‘But tonight we can take some of you on. I don’t see why we can’t try and tow the lifeboats as well.’

‘I do,’ said Hammond. ‘It’s risky enough moving a boat like this at all. As it is, we’ll need to pull in for the day somewhere along the south-east coast tomorrow morning. Then we’ve got to get all the way across the Mediterranean with the engine under enough strain as it is. A small lone fishing vessel is not particularly conspicuous, but one towing two lifeboats most definitely is.’

Cumberlege shrugged. ‘I’m prepared to give it a go. Perhaps we should put it to the men when we get to Limenas.’

‘What’s the alternative?’ asked Peploe.

‘You make your way to the mountains and hole up until things quieten down, or head straight to the south coast and try to take a boat across then. But I should warn you, the south coast is very different from the north. Lots of plunging cliffs and only a handful of places where a caique can get in.’

‘Golly,’ said Peploe. ‘What to do for the best?’

‘Was it you I saw leaving harbour earlier?’ Tanner asked.

Vaughan nodded, then glanced at Hammond. A nod of consent.

‘We’re moving arms and explosives,’ said Vaughan. ‘We brought them from Suda Island at the beginning of the month and they’ve been stored in Heraklion ever since. I was hoping to have them moved a few days ago, but then the town was bombed and the street they were on was blocked. There wasn’t any way of getting them out that night. Instead, we’ve been moving what we can bit by bit.’

‘To Limenas?’ asked Tanner.

‘Yes. The Germans haven’t reached there yet. We’re hoping they still won’t have done.’

‘They’ll be too busy today opening up the airfield and pushing into Heraklion,’ said Hammond. ‘We’ve got a day’s grace, maybe two.’

‘It’s for Satanas,’ said Vaughan. ‘We’ve been moving it up to the Ida Mountains.’

‘And have you got it all out now?’ asked Tanner.

Vaughan shook his head. ‘But it’s booby-trapped.’

The sun was already warm, and the men soon began to dry, white patches of salt appearing on their uniforms. Tanner felt in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes, but the packet was still sodden. He sighed.

‘Here,’ said Cumberlege, passing him a crumpled packet.

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Tanner. He was hungry too, but he felt better for the smoke. Crete was getting nearer once more – he could see the headland Cumberlege had mentioned jutting out. It looked serenely peaceful – a beautiful island waking up to a perfect early summer’s day.

The captain’s cousin, Cle Cumberlege, and Lieutenant McDonald emerged from the cabin.

‘How’s Mr Liddell?’ asked Peploe.

‘Asleep,’ said McDonald. ‘The salt water has meant the wound is clean. The bullet also went right through him. We’re pretty sure it’s not hit anything vital.’

‘He should live,’ added Cle. ‘We can take him with us tonight.’

‘What about you, Alex?’ asked Peploe.

‘I’m staying for the moment,’ he said, ‘to help with the resistance. Now that Pendlebury’s gone.’

‘You too, sir?’ Peploe asked Hammond.

Hammond shook his head. ‘No, I’ve been ordered back to Cairo.’

The sky remained clear. Only the faintest of breezes wisped across the sea – enough to help dry the men, but barely strong enough to fill the sails. That was why the caique was being powered by its engine. However, as they drew towards Limenas, it began to splutter, with thick, oily smoke puffing out.

‘Bugger it!’ exclaimed Cumberlege, as the men exchanged anxious glances. ‘Cle,’ he said to his cousin, ‘go and have a look, will you?’ Cle disappeared into the cabin and the skipper cursed again. ‘Damn and buggeration! It’s the bloody cylinder head.’ He glanced at Peploe and Tanner. ‘They’re old, that’s the trouble, and we’ve been pushing them too hard.’

Cle emerged some minutes later. ‘She’s not good. We’re very low on oil.’

‘Should we shut her down?’

‘No, let’s keep going. We should be all right, but we’re going to need more oil.’

Eventually they made it, easing into the tiny harbour with its long, protective breakwater. Wearily, the men clambered out of the dinghies and lifeboats and up onto the quayside. They looked a motley bunch after their time in the water – many were without boots or any kit. Several guerrillas were waiting and eyed them with barely concealed contempt. Pushing past the men, a couple of the Cretans jumped down onto the boat and began shifting crates and boxes onto the quay, while two others loaded them onto a waiting cart.

The men, still shaken from their traumatic experience earlier, stood about helplessly, then began to sit down where they were, or drifted away to a wall across the road.

‘This is no good,’ said Peploe, to Tanner and McDonald. He rubbed his brow.

They watched Cle and Mike Cumberlege talking with a Cretan, pointing to the caique, then all three jumped back on board and disappeared into the cabin. Hammond and Vaughan were helping with the boxes of supplies, but the task was quickly finished. Seeing Peploe, Hammond called, ‘Let me find out what’s going on.’

He emerged a short while later with Commander Cumberlege and Vaughan, and all three joined Peploe on the quayside.

‘The crack is bad but it should still function. We’re hoping we can get some oil and then we’ll give it another go tonight,’ said Hammond.

‘What are the chances of reaching Egypt?’ asked Peploe.

Mike Cumberlege sighed and fingered his earring. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the engine’s losing oil. It’ll splutter and cough and complain like hell, but it should keep going so long as we can keep topping it up. If we can find some spare, then we should be all right. Otherwise the engine will seize. Trouble is, we can’t mend the cylinder head here. There are neither the parts nor the tools.’

‘Will the number of people you take make a difference to the performance of the engine?’ Peploe asked.

‘If we overload the boat, it’ll put a greater strain on it. We won’t be carrying the supplies, but even so.’ He tugged at his earring again. ‘But I still think that if we can get some oil, we could tow the lifeboats tonight. If we’re lucky we’ll get around to the south coast. Maybe we can find another boat.’

‘Realistically,’ said Peploe, ‘how many could you take?’

‘Twenty-five, perhaps thirty. Plus those in the lifeboats.’

‘So we’re a dozen too many.’

‘Look, let me talk to the men,’ said Hammond. He called them to gather around him. When they had done so, he briefly scanned the sky, then said, ‘The caique needs oil. We’re going to try and find some, and if we get it, we should be able to keep going. Commander Cumberlege will hopefully leave here at dusk. He’s willing to tow the lifeboats. It may well be that we find another boat – we’re going to skirt close to the shore – but we’ll definitely have to moor up again tomorrow even if the boat does make it around the island to the south coast.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Or you may feel you have a better chance simply heading off on foot and trying to find a boat on the south coast. There’s room for seventy men at a push. Have a think. I’m not going to order you to do anything.’

Peploe immediately called over McDonald, Tanner and Lieutenant Timmins. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t fancy our chances on that boat,’ said McDonald. ‘The skies will be full of Jerries and running adrift halfway to Alex doesn’t sound like fun.’

‘I must say it doesn’t appeal to me much, either,’ said Timmins.

‘Jack?’ asked Peploe.

‘The more men on that boat, the less chance she’s got of making it, and that’s only if they scrounge enough oil. And a cracked cylinder head means it’ll burn the stuff like there’s no tomorrow. But the colonel’s right – there shouldn’t be too many Jerries around inland for a day or so. That boat might pack up at any moment, but I know for certain how fast I can walk. And if I’m honest, sir, I’ve always been a bit of a landlubber. But we should split up. No disrespect, but I don’t want lots of unarmed navy boys following me across the island. Small groups have got a better chance of moving without detection.’

Peploe nodded. ‘Good point.’

‘And we’ve got an even better chance if we stick with Captain Vaughan and the andartes. They know the island and we don’t. Also, they’ve got a cartload of arms and explosives.’

‘I’m with Tanner, sir,’ said McDonald.

‘Timmins?’ said Peploe.

‘Me too.’

‘And I’d like to get going now, sir,’ said Tanner. ‘I don’t want to wait a day here. What if Jerry does turn up?’

Peploe smiled ruefully. ‘Let me talk to Captain Vaughan.’

Twenty-two Rangers had survived the sinking of Karachi. The sixteen who had kept their boots on in the sea would go with Vaughan and the Cretan guerrillas, and that included Lieutenant Liddell. Neither Captain Peploe nor Tanner would allow him to remain with the caique.

‘We can’t abandon him,’ Peploe said, ‘not when he’s unable to make the choice.’ But he knew that for Tanner there was more to it than that. Everyone else chose to stay with the boat.

As they climbed out of the village, Tanner paused and looked back. Men were still dotted around the quayside, a long day’s wait ahead of them. He glanced at the mountains away to the south and the giant Ida range looming in the distance, and wondered briefly whether they had made the right decision.

But then he thought of Alopex and the humiliation of this latest defeat. There was still a score to settle, and now, back on Crete, he had a chance to put that right.