Blood of Honour

23

Saturday, 7 June, around 9 p.m. Their final journey to the coast had just begun. There were nineteen of them in all: fourteen Rangers and Captain Vaughan, and four Cretans, including Alopex, walking up the winding road through the village that snaked like a giant S up the steep mountainside on which Yerakari had been built.

Some of the men chatted easily among themselves, relieved to be on the move again. Laughter, garbled words – it was the banter of men who were both excited about and daunted by what lay ahead. Tanner did not join in: he was in no mood to talk. In the rapidly fading light, he looked hard at the village as they walked, determined to remember as much of it as possible: the limes and plane trees that lined the road with the bases of their trunks whitewashed, the flat-roofed houses, and the white church with its thin, high tower. And the orchards: figs, apples, oranges and lemons – the village was a haven of fruit, growing on the terraces and behind the houses at either side of the road. Shed blossom still lay beneath the apples, a white carpet on the grass.

His heart was heavy. That morning he had bade farewell to Alexis and now he was leaving this enchanted valley too. Only twelve hours earlier he had been as close to her as two people could be but now she was gone, out of his life for ever, as this valley soon would be too. It was the finality that he found so difficult: he was as sure as if she had died that he would never see her again. And then it struck him that what he was feeling was a kind of grief. Snap out of it, he told himself. He had lost good friends before and had dealt with it by simply putting them out of his mind and getting on with the job. The trouble was, there was little distraction just now – only walking, up and over the mountains. For the next few hours, at any rate, their journey was likely to be uneventful.

He tried to think of other things. The growing shortage of ammunition was a concern. Thanks to Sykes’s raid on a box in the cave, he had around forty rifle rounds left. He had chided his friend for taking precious supplies from the Cretans but had been glad of them all the same. On top of the rifle rounds, he also had six magazines for his MP40, four grenades and, in the loose cotton German bandolier he had kept and which hung around his neck, a number of slabs of TNT. He was conscious, though, that he and Sykes were considerably better armed than the others. With a bit of luck, they would need none of it, yet concern at what Mandoukis might have told the enemy nagged at the back of his mind. They had all agreed that he must have known about the planned evacuation from Preveli; there had been no precise details at that time, but it might have been more than enough for the Germans to scupper the plan. Not for the first time, Tanner cursed Alopex and the other Cretans for their mishandling of Mandoukis. Only time would tell whether they would soon be paying the price.

On the other hand, all of them were now fit enough for the trek to the coast. Vaughan’s strength had been building, but it was Liddell who had really benefited from their three days in the Amari Valley. Food, sleep, a degree of comfort and careful nursing had helped him through the worst, so that the previous day he had got up and begun moving about. Another long night of sleep and now he was, he declared, fit enough to walk – and so far, by the look of it, he was managing well.

He had found Tanner earlier that afternoon, dozing in the orchard behind the barn that had been their base since reaching Yerakari. Tanner had looked up at his approach, his heart sinking; since he had rescued Liddell, he had largely avoided him, letting others carry out nursing duties. What Liddell had done in those first days of the invasion still rankled but, more than that, he did not want any more conflict with the man. He had too much else to think about without worrying about Mr Liddell.

‘How are you feeling, sir?’ Tanner had asked. He should have stood up with an officer before him, but he stayed where he was, leaning against his apple tree.

‘A lot better, thanks,’ said Liddell. The subaltern had then produced a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Tanner. ‘Here,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sir.’

Liddell lit Tanner’s, then his own. After a brief pause, he said, ‘I want to thank you, Tanner. You saved my life. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you.’

‘It’s all right, sir. Anyone would have done the same.’

‘Well, I’m not sure about that, actually. But I’m most grateful.’ He sighed heavily. ‘You know, Tanner – Jack – I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days. I’m afraid I behaved badly. Like a bloody prig. I’m not really cut out for soldiering, you see.’

‘You could have stayed on the farm, sir. We need people to feed us, as much as we need officers to lead us.’

Liddell looked away. ‘Yes, I know. I wish I had, really. But you see – well, it’s complicated, but when my father died, my sister came home.’

‘Miss Stella, sir?’

‘Yes. My older brother was killed – in France.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Yes, it was bloody awful. Anyway, Stella came back and she started helping on the farm too, and I could see that she was making a bloody good job of it. The farm didn’t need me with her around.’

‘You thought you’d be more use in the army.’

‘Yes. I was being bloody-minded too, I suppose. So I did my training and got sent out here and then you of all people showed up. I want to be frank with you, Jack. I was always rather envious of you as a boy. You were so good at the things my father loved – so much better than me. And then I discovered you’d already proved yourself to be a far better soldier than I could ever hope to be. It made me angry and I suppose I also felt I needed to show my authority. To make you understand that I was an officer who demanded your respect. Of course, respect is earned, not given. I see that now.’

‘I respect you, sir, for your honesty.’

Liddell smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Jack. I made some bad mistakes. And I was wrong to bring up your past like that. You were right. I don’t really know what happened. I wasn’t at home then and it’s none of my business. Your father was a fine man and I’m sorry about what happened to him. What happened to you – well, that’s your affair. I promise you won’t hear me mention it again.’

‘What happened after my father died was a dark time for me – a very dark time. I try not to think about it and I certainly never talk about it. It’s best forgotten.’ He sighed. ‘But your father was a fine man, too, and someone I had the utmost respect for. I certainly wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for him.’

‘I miss him very much,’ he said, ‘but the point is, Jack, if it’s not too much to ask, perhaps you could give me a clean slate. Can we put all that behind us now?’ He held out his hand.

Tanner stood up and took it. ‘Of course. We Wiltshiremen should stick together, sir.’

Liddell laughed. ‘Yes. We’re certainly a minority breed here.’

Tanner had been glad of that conversation. It took a lot for a man to admit his mistakes and to apologize, as he well knew. And it was a weight off his mind to know that he no longer needed to pussyfoot around the man. Having enemies within the battalion caused problems; Liddell’s olive branch was one Tanner had been pleased to take.

Their small column left the village behind, taking a track that led them up and over the mountains to the valley below. It was after one in the morning and inky dark when they reached the main Rethymno road at an isolated stretch a couple of miles to the south of Spili. Not far off a dog barked, but there was no sign of any traffic and they crossed the road easily and continued, following a track that wound through the mountains. By first light, they were entering a narrow pass, and by the time the sun had risen, they were out into a secluded valley. The lushness of the Amari Valley had gone: this was a quite different corner of the island. Not a house could be seen, while either side of the valley grey mountains and hills loomed over them.

They dropped down towards the river, the track leading them to an isolated and ancient stone bridge. It rose in a high arch over the river and at its halfway point, Alopex stopped and pointed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘the sea.’

Tanner looked and there, a couple of miles away through the narrow V of the valley, he saw it too, deep and blue and enticing.

‘Nearly there,’ grinned Alopex. ‘Freedom within your grasp.’

‘You know, I can almost believe it,’ said Peploe. ‘Look at this place – there’s not a soul to be seen.’

‘Just sheep,’ said Alopex, and then, spotting a circling hawk, ‘and a few buzzards. Your man has chosen this place well.’

Tanner wished they would be quiet. He hated hearing such talk. Yes, it was quiet all right – but that meant nothing. The sun was up, they still had a little way to go, and the best part of the day to survive. In any case, he could not shake from his mind his anxiety about Mandoukis. Much could still go wrong.

It was around half past eight that the message came through. Balthasar had been awake since before first light. It was the third night his men had been on alert and although logic told him that the evacuation had been unlikely to take place on Friday and as likely on the Sunday as the Saturday, two whole nights with no news had made him wonder whether he had been entirely misinformed. As first light blossomed into sunrise and then into day, Balthasar had become increasingly impatient, pacing about his command post in Spili, hovering over his radio operator, and smoking one cigarette after another.

But then the magic words.

‘Receiving you, Asgard, this is Baldur. Yes. Yes.’ Gefreiter Schieber turned and grinned at Balthasar. ‘Yes, understood, Asgard. Over.’

‘He’s spotted them?’ said Balthasar.

‘Yes, Herr Oberleutnant. Nineteen men – fifteen Tommies and four Cretans. They’re nearing the monastery now. There is still no sign of any enemy U-boat.’

Balthasar gave immediate orders for his men to be ready to move out in fifteen minutes. So he had been right, after all! All that planning, all that waiting – it had come to something, just as he had hoped.

It was a plan that had evolved in his mind as he had flown over the coast a few days earlier. He had no intention of chasing the Tommies around the mountains. Rather, he wanted to trap them escaping, and Preveli, lying at the end of a dead-end track and narrow strip between the hills and the sea, was as perfect a place as any. Furthermore, he wanted to ensure that Preveli would not be used as an evacuation base in the future. There were, he realized, only two real ways of reaching the monastery. One arced round to the west of Spili through a narrow gorge, the other looped to the east, along a pass that was almost as narrow through the mountains. The two roads met in the valley that led to the sea a short way to the east of the monastery, becoming one at the only bridge across the river. From there, just that lone track led to the monastery. It was possible that the Tommies might try an entirely cross-country route, avoiding any established track, but that seemed to make little sense, and in any case, if they were planning to leave from Preveli they would have to travel along the narrow stretch of land between the sea and the long ridge of mountain behind.

Therefore all he had to do was have a radio operator watch from the mountain above and wait for the Tommies to appear. Again, logic told him that they would move down to the coast overnight, hole up at Preveli during the day, then leave the following night and, indeed, that was precisely what Mandoukis had indicated. Certainly, he reckoned the British were unlikely to risk leaving by day if they did not need to. Armed with a radio set, Balthasar had sent Gefreiter Tellmann and a Gruppe of his men to Preveli on Thursday evening, the first night of their arrival in the south. They had been guided to the valley by a local man who had been bribed heavily. Leaving Tellmann and two others in the valley, the squad had returned to Spili with their guide, who had since then been locked up; Balthasar certainly had no intention of letting some Cretan loudmouth spill the beans on his plan. He had told Tellmann to climb the hill above the monastery to find a place to hide among the rocks, and to remain there, watching.

He now split his force into two. One platoon would approach through the route that ran from the west of Spili, the other from the east. They would rendezvous at the bridge and proceed towards the monastery together.

Balthasar glanced at his watch. It was approaching nine o’clock. The divisional transport had returned to Heraklion, but even travelling by foot they would be at the coast by mid-afternoon. That would give them plenty of time in which to reach the monastery, round up the Tommies and wait for the British U-boat.

It was a shepherd who spotted the men up on the mountain. He had been checking his flock that morning and had heard them speaking in an unfamiliar language, and so had lain low, then crept forward until he could see them. They were in a little hollow beside a large rock and surrounded by vetch. They had guns, but also a box, he said, with a long thin bit of metal sticking up.

‘Did the Germans see him?’ Peploe asked Alopex. They were in a low, flat-roofed building on one of the terraces below the monks’ accommodation. It was where Father Langouvardos had taken them on their arrival, and where they had since been brought some food and coffee. And where, now, an hour later, this young shepherd had been brought to tell them his news.

‘No,’ said Alopex. ‘He is certain they did not see him. At least, they did not once look round and no one came after him.’

None of them needed any guesses as to what the boy had seen.

‘Damn Mandoukis!’ said Tanner, kicking angrily at the ground. ‘So now Jerry’s spotted us and soon loads more Jerries will descend on us.’

‘All right, Jack,’ said Peploe. ‘Let’s just try and think calmly here. I doubt they’ll send a whole battalion to deal with us.’

Tanner now turned to Alopex. ‘Ask this boy if he’ll take us back up there. You and I could go, Alopex. If the boy could get close to them without them noticing, there’s no reason why we can’t. If we can get one of the men alive, we can at least find out what we’re up against.’

Alopex nodded and relayed the message. ‘Yes, he says he can do that. It will only take a half-hour, maybe a little more.’

‘All right, Jack,’ said Peploe, ‘but let me come too. I can speak German, remember.’

They left immediately, following Father Langouvardos as he led them through the collection of buildings and courtyards so that they could not be observed from the hill behind. Beyond the western end of the monastery, the ridge of the hill ran down towards the sea and it was around this spur that the shepherd now led them. They followed him closely, climbing once more, but on the reverse slopes, walking along narrow sheep trails through the vetch until they were approaching the ridge of the hill above the monastery, but from the other side.

The shepherd boy crouched, turned to them and put a finger to his lips. Slowly, quietly, they crept forward. Tanner strained his ears – there was a breeze blowing in from the sea – and then, as the boy had said, they heard voices. They paused to listen.

‘Sir, you stay here with the boy,’ whispered Tanner. ‘Let me and Alopex deal with them.’

Peploe nodded.

‘We’ll keep the radio operator alive and shoot the other two,’ Tanner now whispered to Alopex. ‘But we should get as close as possible before we shoot – we need that radio man alive.’

‘The wind should help us.’

‘I agree – that’s in our favour, at least. Ready?’

Alopex nodded and they began to edge forward. As they crested the ridge they saw the three men not twenty yards ahead, their heads sticking up above the hollow. They were facing towards the sea, two with binoculars to their eyes. Tanner moved closer, one step at a time, until he was just fifteen yards away, and conscious of Alopex on his right. One of the Germans lowered his binoculars, turned and saw the two men. For a split second he looked at Tanner and Alopex with wide-eyed surprise and horror, but in that moment Tanner had raised his rifle tightly into his shoulder and shot the man clean through the forehead. At almost precisely the same moment, Alopex had hit the second through the back, so that he slumped silently forward. The third man, the radio operator, his headphones still around his head, had barely a chance to register what was happening before Tanner was charging down on him, leaping into the hollow and grabbing him. The German struggled at first, but Tanner brought one arm around his neck and yanked one of the man’s arms back with his other hand, then shoved him to the ground at the edge of the hollow. While Tanner held him down, Alopex tied the German’s hands behind his back with his scarf, then yanked him to his feet.

‘Sir,’ Tanner called, and a moment later Peploe and the shepherd appeared.

‘We can start walking straight back down,’ said Alopex.

Taking the radio set and the weapons, they pushed the German forward as Peploe questioned him.

‘He’s being stubborn,’ said Peploe. ‘Won’t say a word.’

Alopex now pulled out his knife, grabbed the prisoner and ran the tip of the blade across the German’s neck. ‘Tell him,’ he said, ‘that if he starts speaking now we will not harm him. Otherwise I will cut off first his ears and then his fingers, one by one, until he talks.’

‘That’s not how I prefer to do things,’ said Peploe, ‘but in the circumstances …’

Alopex continued to hold the man, his eyes boring into him, the tip of the knife just breaking the skin. Tanner watched as a large stain spread around the German’s crotch and down his trouser leg. ‘I think that’s done the trick.’ He grinned.

The German started to talk, his eyes darting from Peploe back to Alopex.

‘All right,’ said Peploe to Alopex, ‘you can let go of him now.’

The German continued to speak, eyeing Alopex with a look of fear.

‘It’s Balthasar,’ said Peploe, as they continued down the hill towards the monastery. ‘He’s got two platoons with him – around sixty men, this fellow reckons. They’ll have machine-guns and rifles but nothing heavier. And they’re coming on foot.’

‘When did he warn Balthasar of our arrival?’ Tanner asked.

‘He says at about half past eight.’

Tanner looked at his watch. It was now nearly eleven o’clock, the hot sun high in the sky above them. ‘We’ve not got long. A few hours, maybe.’

‘What do you think?’ Peploe asked.

‘Could be worse, sir. It could be a lot worse.’

‘But hardly ideal.’

‘No – it’s certainly not that.’

Peploe slapped at an insect. ‘Damn it, Jack, why do I have the feeling this is all rather personal with this bloody Balthasar fellow?’

‘Because, sir,’ said Tanner, ‘I think it probably is.’

Balthasar’s force was spotted a little after half past three that afternoon, emerging around the bend in the road above the mouth of the valley and heading along the track that led towards the monastery. Tanner could see them marching in two long columns, and through his binoculars spotted Balthasar near the front of the lead platoon. The temptation to raise his rifle now and shoot the man dead was considerable, but to do so would have been to ruin their chances of escape.

‘Here,’ he said to Alopex, passing him the binoculars. ‘You want to see what he looks like? That’s Balthasar, up at the front.’

Alopex took them. ‘So that’s the son of a whore. At least I now know who it is I am going to kill.’

With Vaughan and the other officers, Tanner and Peploe had worked out a plan of sorts. As Tanner had pointed out, they not only needed to kill as many Germans as possible, they also had to play for time. None of them was quite sure when the submarine might arrive. Hanford had said some time in the afternoon, which meant it might appear at any moment but, equally, it might be late. Clearly, however, it was best to have the men as close to the sea and ready to leave as possible.

Furthermore, the ground below the monastery favoured defence. It was a good five hundred yards to the sea, but the high point on which the monastery was perched fell away only gradually through rocky, broken, uneven ground. There were trees, too, cypresses as well as olives, and thick gorse bushes. Tanner was perched now on a jutting mound of rock. It gave him a clear view up to the track and monastery, but behind him he could also see almost down to the beach, although the narrow strip of shingle was hidden by one last shallow cliff. That, too, would help.

A track from the monastery led down to the beach, winding through the folds and between rocky outcrops. Sykes had laid two trip wires along it, one near the monastery, and the other a little further down. There was no guarantee the enemy would use the track but Sykes for one had felt it worth laying some charges in case. Elsewhere, at intervals all the way down to the beach, they had placed slabs of explosive, which, as enemy troops neared, would be fired at by Tanner, the bullet causing the highly volatile charge to blow. It was a trick they had first used to good effect in Norway; Sykes had called them ‘Jelly Surprises’, although, as Tanner had pointed out, in this case it was not gelignite but TNT.

‘Don’t matter, sir,’ Sykes had said. ‘The effect’s the same, so they’re still Jelly Surprises as far as I’m concerned.’

‘As you like, Stan,’ Tanner told him. ‘Just so long as they kill lots of Jerries – that’s all that matters.’

While Liddell and Vaughan had been sent down to the beach to keep watch for the submarine, the rest of the men had been positioned over a comparatively wide area covering the approach to the beach. Their instructions were to hold fire until the last moment, and to make the most of what limited rounds they had left; some had barely more than the ten in the breeches of their rifles.

And there was one further reason for taking up positions down towards the coast. They had reckoned that the enemy would head first for the monastery. Approaching the place, then searching every part of every building, would take Balthasar’s men time. Precious time.

Beside Tanner, Alopex chuckled. ‘You were right, my friend. Look.’

‘Good,’ said Tanner, as he watched the columns now deploy into a more open formation. Men were scampering forward, off the road, moving to encircle the entire monastery. ‘Jerry can take as long as he likes.’

Minutes passed. From the monastery they heard shouts, orders being barked.

Alopex chuckled again. ‘They’ll be furious.’

Tanner and Peploe had urged Alopex and his men to leave, to get away while they had the chance, but the Cretan kapitan had refused. ‘I might never have a better chance to kill that son of a whore,’ he had said. ‘I am not going anywhere until this is over, and neither are my men.’

Both Tanner and Peploe had not argued further – after all, they could use four extra rifles – but it worried Tanner that the Cretans might not be able to get away.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Alopex. ‘We can always lie low until nightfall. In any case, we might have killed them all by then.’

Perhaps, but a more likely scenario was that it would be they who were dead, rather than the Germans. Tanner lit a cigarette and saw his hands were shaking. He wanted the enemy to take as long as possible, but he also wished the fighting would begin. He would be fine then, adrenalin dispelling any nerves. He looked at his watch – it was now after four o’clock – then glanced back at the sea, deep and blue and peaceful. Where was that submarine? ‘Come on, you bugger,’ he muttered to himself.

They continued to watch the Germans search the monastery. It seemed as though one platoon had been sent to encircle the walls while the other was there to carry out the search. Occasional shouts, but otherwise nothing. More minutes passed, but eventually they heard orders being called and saw the troops around the outside of the monastery begin picking their way down through the animal pastures, then the fruit and vegetable garden below. Soon after, the men searching the monastery emerged, assembling outside the main entrance.

‘Go on,’ said Tanner. ‘You just walk right on down that track.’

‘What would you do?’ Alopex asked him. ‘If you were Balthasar?’

‘I’m not sure. I think I’d use the track to take me away from the monastery because it’s so obviously easier than jumping down off those terraces. But then I’d move into open formation.’

‘Looks like our man thinks the same as you,’ said Alopex.

They watched now as Balthasar ordered his men forward down the steep track that led from the entrance towards the coast. The lieutenant followed, walking slowly, binoculars to his eyes.

‘Come on, come on,’ said Tanner. He had stood over Sykes as he had set the trip and knew exactly where it was – tied between a young cypress and a fence post beneath the monastery terrace. The lead section was now just yards away.

‘They’re going to hit it,’ grinned Alopex.

Tanner held his breath. Just a couple more steps.

A flash of flame and a deafening boom, and the leading men were blown to pieces, others thrown high into the air along with a fountain of stone, smoke and grit. The report resounded off the mountains, and even on their rock Tanner and Alopex felt the ground tremble. Immediately the enemy hit the ground, diving for cover. A couple of Rangers rifle shots rang out but that was all. Good, thought Tanner, they’ve listened. The men were using their heads.

But as the dust began to settle he saw the men behind the explosion start to get up and try to take cover. With his scope ready on his rifle, Tanner peered through the lens, spotting a crouching figure clutching a machine-gun. He fired and saw the man drop, then aimed again at another darting figure, but this time missed. He cursed – they could not afford to waste a single bullet. And where the hell was Balthasar? Vanished.

‘That must be ten less to worry about at least,’ said Alopex. ‘Only fifty to go.’

‘Just keep watching,’ said Tanner. He wished they still had the machine-gun, but they had left that with Hanford at Yerakari. Men were darting between the rocks, the vetch and gorse. It was hard to get a bead, but Tanner now saw several men scampering near to the first block of TNT. It was perhaps still a hundred yards away, but through his scope he could see it well enough. Focusing on it, he saw a blurred figure move behind it and squeezed the trigger. Another ball of flame erupted into the sky and as the blast subsided they heard a man screaming.

‘Shall we say forty-seven now?’ said Alopex.

The enemy seemed to take to the ground after that. Shots rang out, bullets zipping and whining off the rock, but the advance for the moment seemed to have been stopped dead. Strain as he might, Tanner could not see any movement at all.

‘They’ve gone to ground,’ he said. Then, leaving Alopex, he clambered across the rock to speak to Peploe.

But the captain was not there. Desperately Tanner looked around, spotted Sykes and saw his friend point to the sea: the long, narrow, grey shape of a submarine lay a short distance from the shore.

Thank God, he thought, then realized with a sinking heart that any German machine-gun could make mincemeat of them as they swam and rowed out to the waiting vessel. He looked around and saw Peploe again, running between the rocks and gorse. A shot rang out and Peploe ducked, then scurried on until he was clambering up the rock once more.

‘Can you believe it?’ he said breathlessly. ‘The sub’s actually here.’

‘But the men can’t go out to it yet, sir. They’ll be massacred.’ Peploe’s face fell. ‘How much longer do you think we can keep this lot at bay?’

Tanner scratched his forehead. ‘It’s their machine-guns that are the problem. We need to pin those down.’ He thought a moment, then said, ‘Sir, I’ve had an idea. Send Sykes over here – he’s got more ammo than anyone else – then pull the rest of the men back. When you’re nearing the cliff over the beach, fire off a couple of shots. That way, Jerry will think we’ve all pulled back. Then, when they start moving forward again, Stan and I will set off the rest of the Jelly Surprises, spray the bastards with MP fire and grenades, then make a dash for it. We’ve a cracking little redoubt here – we can see any Jerry that moves forward or either side of us.’

Peploe thought a moment, rubbing his chin. ‘Seems awfully risky for you two. I’m not sure, Jack.’

‘Have you got a better idea, sir?’

‘Well, no, I can’t say I have.’

‘Sir, this way we might just get rid of nearly the whole bloody lot of ’em. One thing’s for sure, though: we won’t be able to get away while those MGs are still operating and I doubt we’ll be able to hold them until nightfall either. This just might give us a chance.’

Peploe sighed. ‘All right. You’re a brave man, Jack. I’m not sure Sykes will thank you for this.’

‘His fault for nabbing all that ammo.’

Reluctantly, Alopex now agreed to fall back with his men and the others, swapping places with Sykes, who had deftly darted between the rocks to join Tanner. ‘I’ll wait for you at the cliff,’ Alopex told Tanner. ‘Good luck, my friend.’

Tanner watched him go, then turned to look for any movement up ahead. An occasional shot rang out, a glimpse of the enemy among the rock and gorse, but that was it. A lull had settled on the fighting, but further down towards the sea, he saw figures moving, and then, as several Germans opened fire, a single crack of a rifle responded. Just the one – that’ll do, thought Tanner. Good lads.

A short distance ahead he saw movement and then a machinegun opened fire. So the enemy was moving forward, just as he’d hoped. Peering through a crevice in the rock Tanner could see the Spandau, and two men crouched amid the gorse only fifteen yards or so from another block of TNT. That was close enough, he reckoned.

‘They’re starting to move up!’ whispered Sykes.

‘And I’ve got an MG team in my sights. Get everything ready, Stan – grenades out, the lot.’

Tanner pulled out his four grenades from his pack, and although his heart was hammering, his hands were no longer shaking. Really, he felt quite calm. Aiming through the crevice, he sighted the block of TNT, then said to Sykes, ‘I’m about to fire, Stan, all right?’

‘Go ahead,’ came the reply. ‘I’m ready.’

Quickly checking that the MG team was still in the same place, Tanner focused on the explosives and fired. A deafening boom – more flame and debris erupted into the air, then bits of rock and earth were pattering back around them, but Tanner had pulled the pins from two grenades and had hurled them towards the rustle and movement ahead of him. Bullets smacked into the rock in reply, but then a further explosion erupted from his left, followed by another grenade blast. Good lad, Stan, thought Tanner. His ears were ringing shrilly, the stench of cordite and smoke was thick in the air, but he now brought his Schmeisser into his shoulder and, moving around the rock, sprayed an entire magazine in a wide arc in front and to the right of him. More men cried out as Tanner brought his rifle back to his shoulder, watching for any movement to the right of their position. A figure was running a hundred yards away, but Tanner quickly drew a bead, picked out the man through his scope, fired and saw the paratrooper drop. Bullets continued to zip and whiz off the rock to the front of them, but although a splinter of stone pinged off his helmet, Tanner was unscathed.

‘How are you doing, Stan?’ he asked.

‘All right. I got a machine-gun.’

‘So did I.’ He glanced back briefly and saw what looked like a canoe moving towards the waiting submarine. ‘Go on,’ muttered Tanner, then further movement away to his right caught his eye. Two Germans were hurrying forward. He aimed and fired in quick succession and saw one knocked over for sure. He glanced back at the canoe and saw it had now nearly reached the submarine. How far was it to that sub? he wondered. Six hundred yards? Seven hundred? A machine-gun could hit it, he knew, but still none was firing. Perhaps they really had got them all. Now his spirits began to rise. He took out the empty magazine from his Schmeisser, replaced it, then called to Sykes, ‘If those lads get to the sub, we make a run for it. What do you say?’

‘They just have, sir – have a dekko.’

Tanner looked back as two men were helped out of the canoe and onto the back of the sub. Liddell and Vaughan?

‘Hold on,’ said Tanner. He looked out, using his scope. There were three more blocks of TNT to explode, one further away to the right, one away to the left and another not far from Sykes. Spotting the first through his scope, he aimed, fired, and immediately the block exploded with another deafening blast of flame, rock and smoke. He shuffled around to Sykes. ‘Stan, cover the right flank, will you, while I get these Jellies?’

He had carefully memorized their location earlier and soon spotted them. The furthest was more than a hundred yards away and only just in his line of fire. A single shot and the block exploded. It was the shards of rock, many of them razor sharp, that were so lethal, he realized, the blast sending them in a wide radius. He heard more men cry out, but was already drawing a bead on the last block, no more than thirty yards to his left and slightly forward. Good, he thought, as he saw movement in the thicket nearby. Again, his aim was true and this time he saw a paratrooper flung into the air by the blast. The slopes were thick with smoke and he grabbed Sykes.

‘Right, iggery, then, Stan,’ he said. He took another grenade, pulled the pin and hurled it, then clambered from his perch, and slid down a steep rockface.

Sykes was already there, crouching at the base of the outcrop. ‘Ready?’ he said.

‘After you.’ Tanner grinned. Crouching, they scurried between the rocks and gorse, using the broken ground to mask their withdrawal, so that it was not until they had made more than a hundred yards of ground that a single bullet whistled near them. Tanner hurried on, following Sykes and sliding down over the lip of the cliff.

Peploe was there, with Alopex and his andartes.

‘I’m pleased to see you two,’ he said. ‘That sounded like a pasting you gave them.’

‘I think we’ve nailed those MGs,’ Tanner said.

‘Liddell and Vaughan are aboard.’

‘Good. I thought it was them. What about Commander Pool?’

Peploe smiled. ‘He’s coming back with us to Alex. Feels his mission has been compromised. He says he’ll try again in a few weeks.’

‘I suppose it has. Can’t say I blame him.’

‘How many do you think are left – up there, I mean?’ Peploe nodded in the direction of the rocky slopes above.

‘God knows, but not that many, I’d have thought. We’ve certainly pinned them down. I think those that are still up there are lying low. I suppose it must be unnerving to think a big block of TNT might go off in your face at any moment. A bit like walking through a minefield – no one wants to do it if they don’t have to.’

‘Have you seen that bastard Balthasar?’ said Alopex.

‘No – not since the trip wire blew. Maybe he was killed then. Maybe that’s why they’re not exactly hurrying forward.’

‘In any case, let’s get the rest of these men on board,’ said Peploe. He waved down to Lieutenant McDonald on the beach below and indicated to him to get the men to start swimming. Tanner watched as Hepworth, Bonner, Hill and Lieutenant Timmins stripped off their webbing, packs and helmets, then saw Hepworth wade into the sea and begin to swim.

An occasional bullet fizzed near, but otherwise it was now quiet. One by one, the men clambered down onto the beach, stripped off their equipment and headed into the water, until, apart from Alopex and his men, only Tanner, Sykes and Peploe remained.

‘Go on, Jack,’ said Peploe, ‘your turn.’

‘No, sir, it’s all right,’ said Tanner. ‘You go.’

‘Very well.’ He turned to Alopex. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything. And good luck.’

‘Long live Crete.’ Alopex grinned. They watched Peploe slide down the cliff, then dash across the beach to the water’s edge.

‘And now it’s your turn,’ said Alopex, to Tanner and Sykes. He shifted his position and then raised himself slightly above the lip. ‘It still seems quiet enough,’ he said. ‘I told you, get them all and you’ll get away. I think maybe you have killed more than you think.’ He turned – but in that moment his expression changed. ‘Balthasar,’ he muttered, and a split second later a single rifle shot cracked out, blood spat from his neck and he slumped beside them on the edge of the cliff. Blood was gushing from his neck, thick and dark, and running from his mouth.

‘Christ, no!’ muttered Tanner. Another shot cracked out and this time the shot was aimed at Peploe now swimming out to sea. Tanner saw him dive then emerge again. ‘Damn! Damn!’ The andartes were now crowding around him and he pushed them away. ‘Stan!’ he hissed. ‘Have you got any grenades left?’

‘No, but I’ve got a stick of Polar.’

Grimacing and cursing, he looked back down at Alopex.

‘Get him,’ Alopex gurgled. ‘Promise me.’

His teeth clenched, Tanner said, ‘Yes. I promise you I’ll get that bastard.’ He gripped Alopex’s shoulders, then saw the Cretan’s eyes flicker and his head loll limply to one side.

‘No! No! No!’ said Tanner, then turned to Sykes. ‘You got that stick, Stan?’ he said, pulling his last grenade from his pack.

‘Right here.’

‘Then light it and when it’s almost ready to blow, hurl it as hard as you can in the direction of those shots.’

Moving forward under the brow of the cliff, Tanner inched forward, then glanced back at Sykes, who hurled his stick of dynamite. At the same time, Tanner had pulled the pin on the grenade and threw that too. One explosion then another, and now Tanner was up, cresting the lip of the cliff and running forward, blindly firing his Schmeisser, emptying the magazine through the haze of smoke and dust. He heard several men cry out and then, leaping through the smoke, glimpsed the man he was after, shaking his head and staggering. Seeing Tanner, Balthasar reached down to grab his rifle but he was not quick enough and Tanner charged into him, flinging him to the ground. He punched his face once, then again, and then closed his hands around the German’s neck.

Balthasar gasped, flailing for his rifle, but then his fingertips closed around the breech and now he had it firmly in his hand. He swung it round onto Tanner’s back, knocking him sideways, but Tanner did not loosen his grip, so that as he fell he pulled Balthasar with him, over the edge of the cliff, the two men tumbling towards the beach. Both men gasped as they rolled to a halt on the shingle, Balthasar now free of Tanner’s grip.

It was Balthasar who was on his feet first. ‘You,’ he said in English. He could not believe his plan had gone so wrong, that so many of his men were either dead or wounded. Even his attempt to outflank them had failed. He had killed the Cretan kapitan, but most of the Tommies had got away, and now Tanner had killed even the half-dozen men he had had with him. Well, no more. As Tanner got to his feet, Balthasar pulled out his pistol.

‘You,’ he said again, as he pointed the Sauer at Tanner, ‘you should have killed me when you had the chance.’

‘Yes,’ said Tanner, ‘I reckon I should.’

A rifle crack rang out behind them, further along the beach, and Balthasar instinctively ducked. In that same moment Tanner swung his arm, knocking the German’s hand clear so that the shot fired harmlessly into the shingle. At the same moment, he drove his boot into Balthasar’s crotch, then swung with his left fist. Balthasar cried out in pain, his pistol fell from his hand and Tanner drew out his German knife and thrust it hard into the man’s chest.

‘But I’ll not make that mistake again,’ he said. Balthasar staggered back a few steps, a look of astonishment on his face. He glanced up at Tanner, blood already running from the side of his mouth, took another step, then fell.

Tanner walked over, pulled the knife from Balthasar’s chest, wiped it against his trouser leg, then stumbled towards Sykes, who was waiting for him at the shore’s edge.

‘Cheers, Stan,’ said Tanner. ‘Reckon you saved me there.’

‘Couldn’t have him shoot you, sir.’ Sykes grinned.

‘You might have hit him, though.’

‘I didn’t want to deny you the pleasure.’

Tanner looked back towards the cliff and saw the three andartes carefully bringing Alopex’s body down to the beach. He raised his hand to them, saw them wave their rifles in return, then turned and stepped into the water.

‘Leaving your boots on, are you?’ said Sykes.

‘Yes, Stan, I bloody well am. And I’m keeping my rifle on my back as well.’

Not a single shot rang out as they swam to the waiting submarine. When they reached the hull, waiting crew heaved them aboard, and then, dripping, their clothes clinging to their bodies, they climbed the conning tower. Sykes entered the hatch first, and Tanner followed, but as he was about to duck down, he paused and looked back towards the shore and the mountains beyond. He was leaving the island that had entranced him with not a few regrets, and yet his conscience, at least, was clear.