Blood of Honour

18

Some forty miles away as the crow flew, but many more by foot, the main British evacuation was still under way. More than six thousand troops had been lifted from the tiny southern port of Sfakia on the night of 29 May. German mountain troops had dogged their retreat all the way, but as the exhausted troops of Creforce neared the coast at last, the landscape had helped them. The mountain passes had descended into a high plateau of lush meadows and groves, but from this plain ran a narrow, deep and craggy ravine, which was the only real passage to the coast and easy to defend; the Imbros Gorge had bought precious time for the mass of Creforce now waiting to be picked up on the shore beyond.

At the end of the gorge the road on which the men had been travelling finally reached a dead end. From high on a rocky headland overlooking the sea there was only one way down to Sfakia and that was by a narrow path. The signs of retreat were everywhere: trucks, cars, even a few light tanks lay abandoned, their engines deliberately wrecked. Everything too difficult or heavy to be carried down to the port lay scattered and discarded.

All the way from the bluff to the sea, men huddled in the rocks, waiting and praying that they might have a chance to leave. Major General Freyberg had made his way through the mass after he and most of his staff had finally left their cave headquarters beneath the bluff that evening, 30 May. Young men who, just ten days earlier, had looked fit, confident and brimming with youthful determination, were now haggard, dirty and unshaven, their uniforms torn and filthy. They were hungry and, above all, thirsty – damn it, who wasn’t in this heat? – but there was nothing he could do for them. Before leaving, he had sent one last signal to General Wavell, urging him to do all that was possible to send more ships, but he knew that, while he would shortly be leaving the island, many of his gallant men would not. They had fought their hardest, lost friends and comrades and now faced an uncertain future as prisoners of war.

Not for the first time since the battle had begun, Freyberg wished he could have been a mere company commander once more, with the decisions of high command left to someone else. He hated leaving his men like this, cutting and running before so many others. To make matters worse, he had seen their faces in the evening dusk. Some had wished him well, but most had just stared at him, stony, silent expressions that had cut him more painfully than any sword or bullet.

Eventually they had reached the quayside, and soon after, a faint hum had been heard that had rapidly grown until, out of the sky, two Sunderland flying boats had appeared. Gracefully swooping down to the calm, gently lapping sea, they had landed a short way from the shore, waiting patiently while Freyberg and his staff clambered down into little wooden dinghies and were rowed towards them. Pulling alongside the giant grey beast, Freyberg could hear the four radial engines ticking and clicking as they cooled. There was a reassuring smell of fuel and oil, as a door opened beneath the high cockpit and he made the awkward step from the boat into the Sunderland.

And then, soon after, with the first Sunderland full of passengers, the engines began to turn and then roar, shaking the whole aircraft. Slowly at first, then gathering speed, the seaplane sped out across the water, buffeted as it skimmed over the surface, until suddenly the shaking lessened and it was climbing away. Freyberg looked out of his window and, in the last vestiges of light, saw Crete, a long, dark outline, like a sleeping giant, and a place of gentle, magnificent beauty rather than the scene of so much bitter and costly fighting.

Freyberg rubbed his eyes. He had been charged with defending Crete and yet he had failed, leading his island garrison to another bitter defeat. It was a burden he would have to live with.

As the hungry Rangers and Cretan andartes ate their meal of roast mutton and bread, they were unaware that the commander of Creforce was at that very moment flying out across the sea towards Alexandria, or that the remnants of Creforce were still evacuating from Sfakia.

As it was, the mood at the cave was sombre. Several of the guerrillas were from the same village as Alopex. As for the kapitan, he kept apart from his men. Alopex was a solitary figure that night, and both Satanas and his men let him be. Tanner, too, was not much in the mood for talking. The cuts to his face hurt, while his head throbbed painfully. He had said nothing to Peploe about his offer to Alopex – not yet. It could wait. He needed to think. Think and rest.

He settled down near the cave’s entrance. Up in the sky, stars twinkled benignly. The air was cool and still; there was no sound of cicadas in the mountains. Near the back of the cave, he heard Liddell calling out. The man had developed a fever. That worried Tanner too. He had not saved the stupid idiot just for him to go and die in some mountain cave. But Liddell was being tended by Woodman and Bonner. He’s not my concern now, Tanner told himself. Go to sleep.

The other Rangers had let Tanner be in the same way that the andartes had recognized Alopex needed to be alone. Sykes had ensured that no one bothered the CSM; he had known Tanner long enough now to understand when his friend was not feeling sociable. Nonetheless, he also saw that the others were desperate to know what had happened between their CSM and the Cretan kapitan.

‘So there he was,’ said Sykes, in a low voice, as a number of the Rangers sat around a softly burning fire, ‘with his bayonet in one hand and a sodding great rock in the other. And a few yards away there’s Alopex with this gleaming dagger. Both men had already knocked ten rounds out of each other. Alopex had got blood running down his face and so had the CSM. They were quite a sight, I can tell you.’

He paused to light a cigarette, which he cupped between his finger and thumb.

‘And then what?’ said Hepworth.

‘Well, then that nipper comes running up the track shouting about what’s happened down below.’

‘So they stop fighting?’ said Mercer.

‘Yes – that was it. But I reckon the CSM had the trump hand. He’d have flung that rock and had him. Could have been curtains for old Alopex.’

‘Tanner’s a hard bastard,’ grinned McAllister. ‘Won’t back down on anything.’

‘But ’e ’as, Mac. He made his peace with Alopex.’

‘So we’re all mates again, then, Sarge?’ said Hepworth.

‘For the moment. But you know what these Cretans are like. Sensitive buggers. Don’t take much to get them worked up about something or other.’

They were quiet for a moment. Then Mercer said, ‘D’you think we’ll ever get off this place, Sarge?’

‘Course we will,’ said Sykes, the tip of his cigarette glowing. ‘We might need a bit of help finding some kind of boat but we’ll be all right. You’ll see. At any rate, we’re safe enough for the moment.’

‘I wonder whether the others made it,’ said Hepworth.

‘I hope the Eyeties didn’t get them,’ said McAllister. ‘Bastard Eyeties. Always jumping on Jerry’s bandwagon. Typical of them to bloody well turn up once the island’s almost secure.’

‘Well, I think we made the right choice, boys,’ said Sykes. ‘I mean, I really hope they made it but, let’s face it, that old boat was knackered, wasn’t it, Eyeties or no Eyeties?’

‘But what now, Sarge?’ said Mercer. ‘Are we going to stay here or do we have to keep fighting Jerry?’

‘You know what, mate?’ said Sykes. ‘I don’t think you should worry your pretty little head about that tonight. Let’s get some kip and see what tomorrow brings, hey?’

Sykes opened his eyes and saw Tanner a short distance away from the mouth of the cave, gazing out over the mountains. The air was fresh and cool, a lingering smell of woodsmoke on his clothes mixing with the sharper scent of sage and brushwood. Most of the other men were still asleep, although a couple of andartes were keeping watch, sitting on rocks, leaning on their rifles. Of Alopex there was no sign.

Sykes yawned, then got up and quietly stepped over the rocky ground to join Tanner, who turned as he approached. He had washed the blood from his face, but there was bruising around his right eye and on his left cheek. The cut, however, looked as though it would heal well: already, a dark mass of blood had congealed into a thick scab.

‘All right, Stan?’ said Tanner.

‘Fine, ta. Better for a good kip, I can tell you. The old boat race don’t look too bad, all things considered, Jack.’

‘I’ve had worse.’ Tanner took a gulp of water from his bottle, then passed it to Sykes. ‘Could kill a mug of char, couldn’t you?’

‘I don’t even want to think about it.’ He drank. Then, passing back the water bottle, he said, ‘I wonder how Mr Liddell is this morning?’

‘He’s not feverish any more,’ said Tanner. ‘I checked.’

‘Then he’s through the worst.’

‘Should be.’

‘I hope he’s grateful,’ said Sykes. ‘You saved his life, Jack.’

‘I didn’t do it for him. I did it for his father. Something I owed him. In any case, I’m hardly going to sit back and let the poor bastard drown, am I?’

‘Well, you did the right thing.’ Sykes sniffed. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Eventually to get off the island and back to Alex.’

‘Eventually. But first?’

Tanner faced him. ‘You don’t need to come, Stan. None of you do, but we owe it to these men to help them get the women out of Heraklion. Damn it, we owe it to ourselves. Cutting and running like that – it was a disgrace, Stan, a bloody disgrace. I’ll go in on my own if I have to.’

Sykes took his comb from his battle-blouse pocket and ran it through his hair. ‘You’re not going anywhere without me. They’ve got a good number of explosives here.’

‘And I bet not one of them knows as much about ’em as you do. And don’t forget there’s still the rest of that cache of Captain Pendlebury’s. If they haven’t already blown themselves up on it, we could make good use of that.’

‘That’s true. It’s still going to be bleeding difficult, though.’

‘I thought that too. Last night I was thinking it was nigh on impossible, but now I’m not so sure.’

‘How come?’

‘Well, I wonder how many troops are in the town itself. They’ve got pretty much the whole island to garrison after all, plus three airfields. We’ll have surprise on our side and with the explosives we can create a few diversions. You’ve still got those time switches, have you?’

‘No, but there’s some in the cave here. I saw a box of them.’

‘There you go, then. I’m not saying it’ll be easy but I reckon it’s possible. Perfectly possible.’

‘And I’m sure Alopex’s sister will be very grateful if we pull it off.’ Sykes smirked at Tanner, who looked down sheepishly.

‘I’ve got to admit, Stan, I can’t bloody stop thinking about her. It’s ridiculous – I only talked to her for about five minutes, but there was something about her, don’t know what quite, but I don’t like the thought of her being a prisoner of those Nazi bastards. I don’t like it one little bit.’

‘Just do me a favour, will you, Jack?’ said Sykes. ‘Don’t go upsetting Alopex again.’

‘Alopex? Oh, he and I are mates now. Putty in my hands.’ He grinned.

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s gone down to the village. We’re going to meet him in Krousonas later.’

‘And what about the captain?’

‘What about him?’ said Peploe’s voice.

The two men turned and saw him walking towards them.

‘Morning, sir,’ said Sykes. ‘We were just discussing a little plan of action.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Tanner. ‘You see, I was thinking that most of these Cretans here aren’t exactly well trained. And, of course, no one can handle explosives like Sykes.’

‘So we were thinking we should take it upon ourselves,’ added Sykes, ‘to get Alopex’s family out of choky and carry out a bit of mischief while we’re at it.’

‘Oh, were you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Tanner. ‘It’s the least we can do after the rest of us were forced to leave them in the lurch like that.’

‘If I’m honest, the same thought had crossed my mind,’ said Peploe, ‘but we’re going to need their help too, you know.’

‘Yes, but this will only work if there’s a few of us,’ said Tanner. ‘It’s a small-scale operation. You, me, Stan here. Maybe one other and perhaps a couple of andartes. No more. Stealth is the key.’

‘I certainly doubt a few days’ delay will make any difference to our chances of getting off the island,’ said Peploe, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

‘It’ll help them, sir,’ said Tanner, ‘especially if we pull this off. These Cretan lads are being good to us, but they’ll be a hell of a lot more helpful if we show a bit of willing. And we’ll be able to prove that, whatever the rest of the British Army might be like, we Rangers are not men to run away in a hurry.’

‘A matter of honour, eh, Jack?’ Peploe smiled.

‘If you like, sir, yes.’

Peploe thought for a moment. ‘All right. This is going to need consideration but let’s at least put it to Satanas and Captain Vaughan.’ He paused and looked out towards the mountain peaks ahead of them. ‘This is a beautiful place, isn’t it? If only we weren’t at war, I’d be really enjoying myself.’

‘Well, sir,’ said Tanner, ‘I’d rather be here planning our revenge than sitting at Alex feeling fed up and guilty for running out on the place.’

Peploe laughed. ‘That, Jack,’ he said, ‘is the difference between you and me.’

Saturday, 31 May, 6.30 a.m. Golden shafts of light now lit the mountains as Rangers and Cretans brewed up German ersatz coffee over newly made fires. Clutching an enamel mug of milchkaffee, Peploe spoke to Satanas and Vaughan, outlining his proposal.

‘Tanner suggested as much last night,’ said Satanas. ‘I was sure he meant it – he is almost Cretan, he has so much pride. I was less sure you would want to risk your men on such a venture.’

‘With the greatest respect,’ said Peploe, ‘we think we might be the best men for the task. We also feel we owe it to you to try.’

Satanas appeared to be genuinely touched by Peploe’s offer. He smiled and clasped the captain’s shoulder. ‘I would not like to blame any of you for another man’s folly. We know you are good, brave men.’

‘And I would like to go with you,’ said Vaughan. ‘I know where Pendlebury’s cache is and the streets and alleys of Heraklion as well as anyone.’

‘First,’ said Satanas, ‘we must go to Krousonas. There we will meet with Alopex and hopefully learn some news from Heraklion.’

They got going soon after. Peploe left Lieutenant McDonald in charge of the Rangers, then, with Tanner and Sykes in tow, followed Satanas, two of his andartes and Captain Vaughan along the track down the ravine. One of Alopex’s men was waiting for them on a bend in the track just above the village and led them down a long, dusty lane lined with plane trees to an ancient monastery. At its heart was the whitewashed church, twin bells raised above the roof at one end, while the monastery buildings spread around it and a narrow courtyard.

‘The monastery of Agia Irini,’ said Satanas. ‘The abbot, Father Gregorikis, is a good man and a friend.’

As they passed through the gates, a monk appeared and led them to a room in a low terracotta-roofed building across the courtyard from the church. Inside was a long oak table with benches at either side. Alopex was there, with the abbot and another man. Alopex stood up as they entered. Tanner saw the cut around his eye and the bruising on his face, and nodded in acknowledgement; he was, he realized, glad to have the big Cretan as an ally rather than an enemy.

Introductions were made. The abbot, dressed in black, his face almost entirely covered with a thick white beard and his head with an elaborate black hat and cape, greeted them in turn, clasping their hands in both of his and muttering some words Tanner was unable to understand. The other man was Yanni Mandoukis. He looked exhausted, his eyes hollow, his lean face unshaven and dirty. Tanner watched Satanas embrace him, then sit on the bench the abbot indicated with his outstretched hand. It was cool and dim in the room, the walls plastered and whitewashed, the air slightly musty, earthy. A monk entered bearing coffee – real coffee this time, thick and sweet.

‘Yanni fought alongside us in Heraklion,’ said Alopex to Peploe, Tanner and Sykes. ‘He has family here in Krousonas.’

‘He fought well,’ said Vaughan.

‘The Germans have taken his wife,’ said Alopex.

‘But not him?’ said Tanner.

‘He was not there,’ Alopex explained. ‘They arrived two days ago, ransacked his house, looking for weapons. They took his wife too. It seems I am not the only one these bastards are trying to ensnare. They have been carrying out a number of raids on houses, taking people and questioning them. As you said, my friend,’ Alopex looked at Tanner, ‘someone must have talked.’

Tanner saw Mandoukis look away, at his fingers, then at the abbot, then at some distant spot on the wall opposite.

‘Do you know where your wife and the others are being held?’ Peploe asked Mandoukis directly. He looked quizzically at Alopex for help.

‘The Germans are using the Megaron as their headquarters,’ said Alopex, ‘but his wife is being held in the Sabbionera Bastion.’

‘It’s right next to the Megaron,’ said Vaughan. ‘Down by the east side of the harbour.’

‘He is pretty sure my family will have been taken there too.’

‘How does he know?’ asked Tanner. He saw Mandoukis glance anxiously at Alopex again and then at Satanas.

‘He arrived back at his house just as his wife was being taken away,’ said Alopex. ‘He followed them. We must get Petrina out as well.’

Mandoukis looked at Tanner, then touched his eye. He breathed in heavily, his face racked with despair.

‘We need to know for certain that is where they’re being held,’ said Vaughan.

‘Leave that to me,’ said Satanas. ‘I will get this information for you.’

‘How?’ asked Tanner.

Satanas smiled. ‘You think no one will have seen two women and a child, surrounded by German troops, being driven through the town?’

‘Satanas has plenty of runners,’ said Vaughan, ‘not least his own grandchildren.’

Satanas acknowledged Vaughan with a slight nod. ‘I will have this information before the day is out.’

‘And who is going to carry out the raid?’ asked Vaughan.

‘Not Alopex and not Mandoukis,’ said Tanner.

‘I am coming,’ said Alopex.

‘No,’ said Tanner. ‘Listen to me a moment. The key is going to be surprise. To achieve that, we need to get into the heart of the town without alerting a soul. So how are we going to do that?’

‘By making sure no one sees us,’ said Alopex.

‘But how? There will be guards at every gate. No one will be able to enter the town without being stopped and checked. The alternative is to try to get through where the walls are crumbling but they’ll have men there too. We won’t be able to get past without killing some and then they’ll be discovered and we’ll be in trouble.’

‘There’s only one way,’ said Sykes. ‘We need to do some dressing up.’

‘Exactly,’ said Tanner. ‘We need Jerry uniforms. Sir,’ he said, turning to Peploe, ‘you speak German, don’t you?’

‘So do I,’ said Vaughan. ‘I’m completely fluent. Tanner has a point, Alopex,’ he added. ‘We could pass for Germans, but neither you nor Mandoukis nor any of your andartes could.’

‘Unless you wish to cut your hair and shave off your moustache,’ said Satanas. ‘No, Tanner is right. We must trust our British friends to do this for us. It is hard, Alopex, but the Germans know about us. They do not know these men are still on the island. That is an advantage we must use.’

Alopex thumped the table with his fist.

‘I’m sorry, Alopex,’ said Vaughan.

‘No, no – you are right,’ he said.

‘Where do we get the uniforms from?’ asked Peploe.

‘There are still some dead ones that have not been buried,’ said Alopex. ‘We can have the uniforms washed.’

‘But they’ll be torn and covered in blood,’ said Vaughan. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘There is another way,’ said Satanas. ‘There is a lot of traffic now going between Heraklion, Rethymno and Canea. Between Gazi and Arolithos there would be an opportunity for an ambush. My men can help you with that. It is only a two-hour walk away.’

‘Yes, all right,’ said Vaughan. ‘We should go there now. Who knows how long we might have to wait?’

‘Alopex can take some of his men to help,’ said Satanas, ‘and I will organize the gathering of intelligence.’ He spoke to Mandoukis and the abbot. ‘And,’ he added, ‘Mandoukis will stay here.’

‘So, do we try and make our rescue tomorrow night?’ asked Peploe.

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Vaughan.

‘Very well,’ said Satanas, clapping his hands together. ‘We are all agreed. These are terrible days that we live in. Already the Germans have made it clear they intend to rule through terror. We can expect retaliation, I think, not only for what we are planning in Heraklion but for any ambush as well. They will burn houses, no doubt shoot people too. But we cannot be cowed by this. We never gave up in our struggle against the Turks and we won that battle, just as we shall win this too. I truly fear what lies ahead but we cannot – we must not – accept Nazi rule. Not now, not ever. No German has the right to tell us Cretans how to live our lives. The mountains are our friends. We must use them to help us survive. I would rather die than become a slave to Germany.’ He placed his hands flat on the table. ‘I have said my piece. Now let us make this first stand against the enemy.’

Tanner saw silent tears run down Alopex’s cheeks. He thought of the previous summer when they had returned from Dunkirk. The nation had been expecting a German invasion at any moment. There had been defiance then, a collective determination to fight on, whatever the cost. Had German troops ever reached the valley of his home, he knew he would have been compelled to kill as many of the enemy as he could, no matter what the consequences – yet home was a place he had not been in nine years and no German invasion had ever come to pass. He could only imagine the sense of bitter anger these Cretans must feel. Of course Satanas, Alopex and others would fight on.

As it happened, they did not need to go as far as Arolithos. Tilisos was a little over an hour’s walk away, and as they reached the far side of the village, crossing the olive groves at either side of the road, they saw a dust cloud a mile or so off, the telltale sign of approaching traffic. Peering through his field glasses Tanner saw that it was a lone truck – it looked to him very much like a captured British fifteen-hundredweight Morris. Through the dust he spotted a dozen paratroopers.

‘We’re in luck,’ he said. He hurried forward through the olives to the bank next to the edge of the road and quickly scanned the ground. The truck was moving steadily up a comparatively straight stretch, but then the road curved tightly around, first, a left-hand bend and then a right. What Tanner liked about it, though, was that the road actually dropped down towards the right-hand bend: there would be some momentum behind the vehicle as it approached the turn.

Alopex, Vaughan and Peploe were beside him, crouching through the long grass between the olives. Beyond was the valley below, rolling hills covered with ever more vines and olives. Away to their left, they could see Heraklion and the azure sea beyond.

‘We need to move forward a couple of hundred yards,’ said Tanner, his voice quick and precise. ‘As they emerge round that right-hand bend there, I’ll hit the driver. With a bit of luck he’ll drive on over the edge. It looks quite steep there and the olives are spaced quite well apart. The truck should roll and at the very least the men will be thrown out. It won’t kill them all, but we want to shoot dead as few as possible.’

‘Good plan,’ said Vaughan. ‘Let’s move then. We need to be quick.’

They hurried forward, and about fifty yards from the bend, Alopex dashed across the road with several of his men and ducked below the line of the road in the olive grove below, while the rest stayed behind Tanner. Pulling out his Aldis scope, Tanner fixed it to his Enfield, then hastily adjusted the zero; although he knew he would be able to see the driver clearly from that distance, he wanted to be certain he made as accurate a shot as possible. He found a large rock, lay down in the grass and rested his rifle barrel on it, steadied himself and peered through the scope, waiting.

The truck was now out of sight, but he could hear it as its driver changed gear when they approached the left-hand bend. Down another gear, then foot on the throttle, engine rising, another change of gear, and then it was on the stretch down towards the second bend. Tanner pulled back the bolt on his rifle and felt his finger lightly caress the trigger. Now the engine was changing tone again as brakes were applied and it approached the second bend. Tanner breathed in, then held his breath. Come on, come on, he thought. And suddenly there it was, the front of the truck appearing around the bend, filling his scope. Tanner took a second to focus on the driver, aimed for the centre of the man’s cloth-capped forehead and squeezed the trigger.

The butt lurched into his shoulder, the crack of the rifle rang out sharply, and the driver’s head snapped backwards. The startled passenger reached for the steering wheel, but Tanner had already pulled back the bolt again and fired. The second man fell backwards just as the front of the truck tipped over the edge of the road. For a moment it rolled and bounced forward, men jumping free from the back, but then hit a tree with a glancing blow, toppled over and began to roll down the steep slopes until it was lost to sight.

‘Quick!’ said Vaughan, and now they were all jumping down onto the road and scampering across. With his rifle hastily slung across his back and his Schmeisser ready, Tanner reached the lip of the road as, with a crash, the truck at last came to a halt a hundred yards below, mangled and bent between two olives, while in front of him Alopex and his men were using knives and rifle butts to kill those who had jumped.

Tanner ran down through the trees. Several men, he saw, were lying spreadeagled around the smashed truck, but at least two were moving. He ran on and was conscious of Alopex beside him, bloodstained knife in his hand, flitting between the trees.

A paratrooper saw them and tried to manoeuvre his rifle but Alopex reached him before he could fire, knocked the weapon clear and swung his fist hard into the side of the man’s head. Tanner pounced on the second man, clenched his arm around the German’s neck so that he gripped the back of his head, then with his other hand gave a sudden, firm jerk that broke the man’s spinal cord, killing him instantly.

‘A fine shot, Jack,’ said Alopex, using Tanner’s Christian name for the first time. ‘Your plan worked perfectly.’

‘Are there any others?’ said Tanner. There were loose pieces of paper scattered around the truck, which hissed and ticked as its now broken engine cooled. He grabbed a sheet.

‘Here,’ he said, passing it to Alopex. ‘It’s all Greek to me.’

Alopex took it. ‘A warning from General Student, whoever he may be,’ he said. ‘Threats – the Germans will shoot us, burn villages, execute male populations as a reprisal against any sabotage or atrocities by us Cretans.’ He screwed it up. ‘They must have been on their way to put these up around the villages. They were wasting their time.’

‘You’d take no notice?’

‘No – hardly anyone can read.’ Alopex laughed. ‘Stupid Nazi sons of whores.’

Tanner grinned, picked up another of the notices and tucked it into his pocket. Further back up the hill he saw a guerrilla raise his rifle in salute. ‘We should hurry this up,’ he said to Alopex. ‘We need to get these men stripped and bundle some of them back in the truck. If we set fire to it, it’s just possible the Germans will think it was an accident – after all, they’re mostly young troops driving an unfamiliar vehicle on unfamiliar roads. We can leave a couple of the men on the slopes here, but they need to be dressed still and to look as though they were killed as the truck fell.’

‘Good idea. I will tell the others,’ said Alopex.

Tanner began to strip the two men they had just killed: boots, trousers, jump smocks, which, he noticed, both men had rolled up to the elbow, shirts, belts, webbing, field caps and helmets, which were quite different from the normal German coal-scuttle design. He felt in the pockets and found some cigarettes, but also letters and a few photographs. Tanner looked at them: a family shot, a mother, father and younger sister. Tanner sighed, and wiped his brow. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered. Both men had been young – early twenties, he guessed. Maybe even younger. Just kids. Having made a pile of their kit, he moved the bodies beside the truck. Alopex was returning with Vaughan and several of the andartes, each carrying a stripped and dead German.

‘Here,’ said Tanner. ‘Put them in the back.’

‘We’d better not take their weapons,’ said Vaughan.

Alopex looked disappointed and threw a Schmeisser into the back of the truck. ‘No, you are right – but it is hard to throw away guns.’

Seeing an oily rag in the open store box between the off-side wheels Tanner took it, hurried around to the other side, drew out his sword bayonet and punctured the fuel tank then held the rag under it until it was soaked in the fluid.

When the bodies had been dumped in the back and the men had moved out of the way, Tanner wrapped the rag around a stick, lit it and threw it at the truck. The petrol seeping onto the grass immediately flared up and, moments later, the rest of the petrol tank exploded. In no time, the entire truck was engulfed in livid flames, thick smoke billowing into the sky from the rubber tyres, the wooden flooring and sides. The bonnet burst open as fire from the ignited oil in the engine caused the metal to twist.

‘Come on,’ said Peploe, ‘we need to get out of here quickly.’ Alopex cuffed one of his men, who was still watching the spectacle, but then all of them were scampering back up the slope, through the trees, German boots around their necks and uniforms bundled under their arms. Crossing the road, they clambered back up the other side and, using the olives as cover, hurried back towards Silhos.

Only when they were halfway back to Krousonas and well clear of the burning truck did they slacken their pace and begin to relax their guard. As the village came within easy sight, its collection of largely white buildings nestling beneath the mountains, they paused to look back in the direction from which they had come. They could still see a faint wisp of dark smoke.

‘I don’t think it’ll take the Germans long to come out and investigate,’ said Vaughan.

‘Hopefully they’ll think it really was an accident,’ said Peploe.

‘Here, sir,’ said Tanner, passing to Vaughan the notice he had picked up. ‘Looks like they were on a trip to post these up round about.’

Vaughan took it. ‘The bastards,’ he muttered. ‘There’s going to be a reign of terror. This isn’t a modern war, it’s worse than the Middle Ages.’

They walked on, following Alopex and his men.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask, sir,’ said Tanner, at length. ‘That bloke Mandoukis.’

‘What of him?’

‘Do you believe him?’

Vaughan sighed. ‘Why do you think Satanas insisted he remain in the monastery? Honestly? I don’t know. He fought bloody well in Heraklion. He has family up here in the mountains, and has known these men all his life.’

‘But his wife is being held by the Germans,’ said Peploe, ‘so they could have something on him.’

‘Maybe,’ said Vaughan. ‘I hope not. But we need to be careful. If we can get his wife out as well, then I’d say we have less reason to worry. If he has betrayed them, though …’ He did not finish the sentence.

‘I can imagine,’ said Peploe.

They returned to the cave, climbing back up through the ravine in the scorching afternoon sun, their backs slick with sweat. Later, at dusk, Satanas arrived with one of his teenage grandsons, a number of armed men and several other new faces, not least Jack Hanford, an agent who had been working with Pendlebury, and another of the kapitans, Manoli Bandouvas. The latter was a large, moustachioed, broad-faced man of perhaps forty, Tanner guessed, booted and armed with no fewer than three bandoliers around his waist.

The new arrivals had brought with them important news.

‘Mandoukis was wrong,’ said Satanas. He sat on a rock before the fire, Bandouvas on one side of him, Alopex on the other. Hanford, Vaughan and Peploe sat opposite. There was, Tanner realized as he stood behind Peploe, a distinct pecking order: Satanas at the top, then Bandouvas and then Alopex. All three men, however, showed obvious regard and respect for Vaughan and Hanford. Behind them all were the andartes and the Rangers, some standing and listening, others sitting around the cave’s edge. Bottles of raki were passed around, while on another fire, meat was cooking. Tanner watched the flickering flames cast shadows and an orange glow across the old man’s face.

‘They are not being held in the Sabbionera Bastion,’ he said. ‘They are in the fortress.’

‘Damn it!’ said Vaughan.

Peploe rubbed his chin. ‘That’s not going to be easy.’

‘No,’ said Satanas, ‘although if you can get in it should be easy enough to find them. The fortress is not as big as it looks.’

‘And we know this for certain?’ said Peploe.

‘Yes. They were seen being taken there. A number of witnesses have confirmed this.’

‘I suppose it is the obvious place,’ sighed Vaughan. ‘What about the stash?’

‘So far, it seems no one has found it.’

‘Well, that’s something.’

‘And there’s a fair amount of explosives up here already, Alex,’ added Peploe. ‘Sergeant Sykes has enough switches and fuse to wreak considerable havoc.’

‘Do we have any idea how many men there are actually in the town?’ asked Tanner.

Satanas smiled. ‘Not so many. A number have moved to Rethymno, but most are out by the airfield and outside the town walls. There are perhaps a hundred at the Megaron and around the Sabbionera Bastion. There is also an encampment of paratroopers in the valley south of Gazi and at Knossos. There are guards at all the gates and troops wandering freely through the town.’

‘What we need is a big diversion,’ said Tanner. ‘Several different explosions going off in different parts of the town. At the bastions, preferably, then none of the townspeople will get hurt.’

‘That should be possible,’ said Sykes. ‘We’ve got a whole crate of time pencils back here.’

‘So we get into the town, set the explosions, lie low and then, when they start going off, make for the fortress?’ said Peploe.

‘In a nutshell, sir, yes,’ said Tanner.

Vaughan nodded. ‘I can’t think of a better plan.’

‘Pendlebury would approve,’ said Hanford. ‘Just the kind of madcap scheme he would have come up with.’ He smiled, then said to Peploe, ‘And assuming you’re successful and make it safely back here, we need to get you and the rest of your men, John, off the island.’

‘Yes. Do you have any ideas?’

‘I do, as it happens. I don’t know how much Captain Vaughan has told you, but Major Bruce-Mitford and I had been working with Pendlebury for some time over here, and will continue to work here on the island. Bandouvas and I have just come from the Amari Valley where, with Bruce-Mitford, we’ve set up something of a base in a village called Yerakari. Bruce-Mitford’s still there and we’ve been in touch with Cairo.’

‘You’ve got a wireless set?’ said Peploe.

‘One of the very few the British Army ever had on the island.’ He smiled ruefully.

‘It’s one of the disgraces of the war,’ said Vaughan. ‘Why the hell the powers that be didn’t twig this earlier, God only knows.’

‘It was the same in France,’ said Peploe. ‘No one had a clue what was going on half the time and all the while it seemed like every other Jerry had a set.’

‘Anyway,’ said Hanford, ‘fortunately we do have a set and we’re in touch with Cairo. They’re sending a submarine. It’s coming in a week with a Commander Pool on board, a naval man who apparently knows Crete intimately from before the war. He’s suggested Preveli.’

‘A good choice,’ said Satanas. ‘It is a monastery on the headland overlooking the sea, but there are paths leading down to the shore. Father Langouvardos will help. I know him and he is not only a very holy man but also a true Cretan patriot.’

‘In a week?’ said Peploe. ‘Did they say when exactly?’

‘Not yet. Major Bruce-Mitford is going to make contact with Father Langouvardos and then we’ll await confirmation from Cairo. But if we can, we’ll try to get you out on the sub when it comes.’

‘Thank you,’ said Peploe. ‘But, first, some of us have a mission to carry out.’ He looked at the Cretan kapitans opposite him. ‘Tomorrow night, then?’

‘Yes, tomorrow,’ said Satanas.

Tomorrow, thought Tanner. He knew it was a mission fraught with danger, that there was every chance something would go terribly wrong and that they might all get themselves killed. And yet it would give them a chance to fight back, to show those bastards that not all British troops on Crete had been ready to roll over. And he also wanted to get Alexis out of there; he wanted that badly. He was taking it far too personally, he knew, but unless they attempted this mission, his conscience would never rest. Honour demanded it.