The Complete Navarone

by Alistair MacLean

  ‘Let’s hope it makes a safe landing,’ Zimmermann said.

  ‘Let’s hope so indeed, sir.’

  The Wellington made a safe landing, a perfect landing considering the extremely difficult conditions. It slowed down quickly, then steadied its speed as it headed towards the end of the runway.

  Neufeld said into the microphone: ‘Safely down, Herr General, and rolling to rest.’

  ‘Why doesn’t it stop?’ Droshny wondered.

  ‘You can’t accelerate a plane over snow as you can over a concrete runway,’ Neufeld said. ‘They’ll require every yard of the runway for the take-off.’

  Quite obviously, the pilot of the Wellington was of the same opinion. He was about fifty yards from the end of the runway when two groups of people broke from the hundreds lining the edge of the runway, one group heading for the already opened door in the side of the bomber, the other heading for the tail of the plane. Both groups reached the plane just as it rolled to a stop at the very end of the runway, a dozen men at once flinging themselves upon the tail unit and beginning to turn the Wellington through 180°.

  Droshny was impressed. ‘By heavens, they’re not wasting much time, are they?’

  ‘They can’t afford to. If the plane stays there any time at all it’ll start sinking in the snow.’ Neufeld lifted his binoculars and spoke into the microphone.

  ‘They’re boarding now, Herr General. One, two, three … seven, eight, nine. Nine it is.’ Neufeld sighed in relief and at the relief of tension. ‘My warmest congratulations, Herr General. Nine it is, indeed.’

  The plane was already facing the way it had come. The pilot stood on the brakes, revved the engines up to a crescendo, then twenty seconds after it had come to a halt the Wellington was on its way again, accelerating down the runway. The pilot took no chances, he waited till the very far end of the airstrip before lifting the Wellington off, but when he did it rose cleanly and easily and climbed steadily into the night sky.

  ‘Airborne, Herr General,’ Neufeld reported. ‘Everything perfectly according to plan.’ He covered the microphone, looking after the disappearing plane, then smiled at Droshny. ‘I think we should wish them bon voyage, don’t you?’

  Mallory, one of the hundreds lining the perimeter of the airstrip, lowered his binoculars. ‘And a very pleasant journey to them all.’

  Colonel Vis shook his head sadly. ‘All this work just to send five of my men on a holiday to Italy.’

  ‘I dare say they needed a break,’ Mallory said.

  ‘The hell with them. How about us?’ Reynolds demanded. In spite of the words, his face showed no anger, just a dazed and total bafflement. ‘We should have been aboard that damned plane.’

  ‘Ah. Well. I changed my mind.’

  ‘Like hell you changed your mind,’ Reynolds said bitterly.

  Inside the fuselage of the Wellington, the moustached major surveyed his three fellow-escapees and the five Partisan soldiers, shook his head in disbelief and turned to the captain by his side.

  ‘A rum do, what?’

  ‘Very rum, indeed, sir,’ said the captain. He looked curiously at the papers the major held in his hand. ‘What have you there?’

  ‘A map and papers that I’m to give to some bearded naval type when we land back in Italy. Odd fellow, that Mallory, what?’

  ‘Very odd indeed, sir,’ the captain agreed.

  Mallory and his men, together with Vis and Vlanovich, had detached themselves from the crowd and were now standing outside Vis’s command tent.

  Mallory said to Vis: ‘You have arranged for the ropes? We must leave at once.’

  ‘What’s all the desperate hurry, sir?’ Groves asked. Like Reynolds, much of his resentment seemed to have gone to be replaced by a helpless bewilderment. ‘All of a sudden, like, I mean?’

  ‘Petar and Maria,’ Mallory said grimly. ‘They’re the hurry.’

  ‘What about Petar and Maria?’ Reynolds asked suspiciously. ‘Where do they come into this?’

  ‘They’re being held captive in the ammunition block-house. And when Neufeld and Droshny get back there –’

  ‘Get back there,’ Groves said dazedly. ‘What do you mean, get back there? We – we left them locked up. And how in God’s name do you know that Petar and Maria are being held in the blockhouse? How can they be? I mean, they weren’t there when we left there – and that wasn’t so long ago.’

  ‘When Andrea’s pony had a stone in its hoof on the way up here from the block-house, it didn’t have a stone in its hoof. Andrea was keeping watch.’

  ‘You see,’ Miller explained, ‘Andrea doesn’t trust anyone.’

  ‘He saw Sergeant Baer taking Petar and Maria there,’ Mallory went on. ‘Bound. Baer released Neufeld and Droshny and you can bet your last cent our precious pair were up on the cliff side there checking that we really did fly out.’

  ‘You don’t tell us very much, do you, sir?’ Reynolds said bitterly.

  ‘I’ll tell you this much,’ Mallory said with certainty. ‘If we don’t get there soon, Maria and Petar are for the high jump. Neufeld and Droshny don’t know yet, but by this time they must be pretty convinced that it was Maria who told me where those four agents were being kept. They’ve always known who we really were – Maria told them. Now they know who Maria is. Just before Droshny killed Saunders –’

  ‘Droshny?’ Reynolds’s expression was that of a man who has almost given up all attempt to understand. ‘Maria?’

  ‘I made a miscalculation.’ Mallory sounded tired. ‘We all make miscalculations, but this was a bad one.’ He smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. ‘You will recall that you had a few harsh words to say about Andrea here when he picked that fight with Droshny outside the dining hut in Neufeld’s camp?’

  ‘Sure I remember. It was one of the craziest –’

  ‘You can apologize to Andrea at a later and more convenient time,’ Mallory interrupted. ‘Andrea provoked Droshny because I asked him to. I knew that Neufeld and Droshny were up to no good in the dining hut after we had left and I wanted a moment to ask Maria what they had been discussing. She told me that they intended to send a couple of Cetniks after us into Broznik’s camp – suitably disguised, of course – to report on us. They were two of the men acting as our escort in that wood-burning truck. Andrea and Miller killed them.’

  ‘Now you tell us,’ Groves said almost mechanically. ‘Andrea and Miller killed them.’

  ‘What I didn’t know was that Droshny was also following us. He saw Maria and myself together.’ He looked at Reynolds. ‘Just as you did. I didn’t know at the time that he’d seen us, but I’ve known for some hours now. Maria has been as good as under sentence of death since this morning. But there was nothing I could do about it. Not until now. If I’d shown my hand, we’d have been finished.’

  Reynolds shook his head. ‘But you’ve just said that Maria betrayed us –’

  ‘Maria,’ Mallory said, ‘is a top-flight British espionage agent. English father, Yugoslav mother. She was in this country even before the Germans came. As a student in Belgrade. She joined the Partisans, who trained her as a radio operator, then arranged for her defection to the Cetniks. The Cetniks had captured a radio operator from one of the first British missions. They – the Germans, rather – trained her to imitate this operator’s hand – every radio operator has his own unmistakable style – until their styles were quite indistinguishable. And her English, of course, was perfect. So then she was in direct contact with Allied Intelligence in both North Africa and Italy. The Germans thought they had us completely fooled: it was, in fact, the other way round.’

  Miller said complainingly: ‘You didn’t tell me any of this, either.’

  ‘I’ve so much on my mind. Anyway, she was notified direct of the arrival of the last four agents to be parachuted in. She, of course, told the Germans. And all those agents carried information reinforcing the German belief that a second front – a full-scale invasion – of Yugoslavia was imminent
.’

  Reynolds said slowly: ‘They knew we were coming too?’

  ‘Of course. They knew everything about us all along, what we really were. What they didn’t know, of course, is that we knew they knew and though what they knew of us was true it was only part of the truth.’

  Reynolds digested this. He said, hesitating: ‘Sir?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I could have been wrong about you, sir.’

  ‘It happens,’ Mallory agreed. ‘From time to time, it happens. You were wrong, Sergeant, of course you were, but you were wrong from the very best motives. The fault is mine. Mine alone. But my hands were tied.’ Mallory touched him on the shoulder. ‘One of these days you might get round to forgiving me.’

  ‘Petar?’ Groves asked. ‘He’s not her brother?’

  ‘Petar is Petar. No more. A front.’

  ‘There’s still an awful lot –’ Reynolds began, but Mallory interrupted him.

  ‘It’ll have to wait. Colonel Vis, a map, please.’ Captain Vlanovich brought one from the tent and Mallory shone a torch on it. ‘Look. Here. The Neretva dam and the Zenica Cage. I told Neufeld that Broznik had told me that the Partisans believe that the attack is coming across the Neretva bridge from the south. But, as I’ve just said, Neufeld knew – he knew even before we had arrived – who and what we really were. So he was convinced I was lying. He was convinced that I was convinced that the attack was coming through the Zenica Gap to the north here. Good reason for believing that, mind you: there are two hundred German tanks up there.’

  Vis stared at him. ‘Two hundred!’

  ‘One hundred and ninety of them are made of plywood. So the only way Neufeld – and, no doubt, the German High Command – could ensure that this useful information got through to Italy was to allow us to stage this rescue bid. Which, of course, they very gladly did, assisting us in every possible way even to the extent of gladly collaborating with us in permitting themselves to be captured. They knew, of course, that we had no option left but to capture them and force them to lead us to the block-house – an arrangement they had ensured by previously seizing and hiding away the only other person who could have helped us in this – Maria. And, of course, knowing this in advance, they had arranged for Sergeant Baer to come and free them.’

  ‘I see.’ It was plain to everyone that Colonel Vis did not see at all. ‘You mentioned an RAF saturation attack on the Zenica Gap. This, of course, will now be switched to the bridge?’

  ‘No. You wouldn’t have us break our word to the Wehrmacht, would you? As promised, the attack comes on the Zenica Gap. As a diversion. To convince them, in case they have any last doubts left in their minds, that we have been fooled. Besides, you know as well as I do that that bridge is immune to high-level air attack. It will have to be destroyed in some other way.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘We’ll think of something. The night is young. Two last things, Colonel Vis. There’ll be another Wellington in at midnight and a second at three a.m. Let them both go. The next in, at six a.m., hold it against our arrival. Well, our possible arrival. With any luck we’ll be flying out before dawn.’

  ‘With any luck,’ Vis said sombrely.

  ‘And radio General Vukalovic, will you? Tell him what I’ve told you, the exact situation. And tell him to begin intensive small-arms fire at one o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘What are they supposed to fire at?’

  ‘They can fire at the moon for all I care.’ Mallory swung aboard his pony. ‘Come on, let’s be off.’

  ‘The moon,’ General Vukalovic agreed, ‘is a fair-sized target, though rather a long way off. However, if that’s what our friend wants, that’s what he shall have.’ Vukalovic paused for a moment, looked at Colonel Janzy, who was sitting beside him on a fallen log in the woods to the south of the Zenica Gap, then spoke again into the radio mouth-piece.

  ‘Anyway, many thanks, Colonel Vis. So the Neretva bridge it is. And you think it will be unhealthy for us to remain in the immediate vicinity of this area after 1 a.m. Don’t worry, we won’t be here.’ Vukalovic removed the head-phones and turned to Janzy. ‘We pull out, quietly, at midnight. We leave a few men to make a lot of noise.’

  ‘The ones who are going to fire at the moon?’

  ‘The ones who are going to fire at the moon. Radio Colonel Lazlo at Neretva, will you? Tell him we’ll be with him before the attack. Then radio Major Stephan. Tell him to leave just a holding force, pull out of the Western Gap and make his way to Colonel Lazlo’s HQ.’ Vukalovic paused for a thoughtful moment. ‘We should be in for a few very interesting hours, don’t you think?’

  ‘Is there any chance in the world for this man Mallory?’ Janzy’s tone carried with it its own answer.

  ‘Well, look at it this way,’ Vukalovic said reasonably. ‘Of course there’s a chance. There has to be a chance. It is, after all, my dear Janzy, a question of options – and there are no other options left open to us.’

  Janzy made no reply but nodded several times in slow succession as if Vukalovic had just said something profound.

  NINE

  Friday 2115–Saturday 0040

  The pony-back ride downhill through the thickly wooded forests from the Ivenici plateau to the block-house took Mallory and his men barely a quarter of the time it had taken them to make the ascent. In the deep snow the going underfoot was treacherous to a degree, collision with the bole of a pine was always an imminent possibility and none of the five riders made any pretence towards being an experienced horseman, with the inevitable result that slips, stumbles and heavy falls were as frequent as they were painful. Not one of them escaped the indignity of involuntarily leaving his saddle and being thrown headlong into the deep snow, but it was the providential cushioning effect of that snow that was the saving of them, that and, more often, the sure-footed agility of their mountain ponies: whatever the reason or combination of reasons, bruises and winded falls there were in plenty, but broken bones, miraculously, there were none.

  The block-house came in sight. Mallory raised a warning hand, slowing them down until they were about two hundred yards distant from their objective, where he reined in, dismounted and led his pony into a thick cluster of pines, followed by the others. Mallory tethered his horse and indicated to the others to do the same.

  Miller said complainingly: ‘I’m sick of this damned pony but I’m sicker still of walking through deep snow. Why don’t we just ride on down there?’

  ‘Because they’ll have ponies tethered down there. They’ll start whinnying if they hear or see or smell other ponies approaching.’

  ‘They might start whinnying anyway.’

  ‘And there’ll be guards on watch,’ Andrea pointed out. ‘I don’t think, Corporal Miller, that we could make a very stealthy and unobtrusive approach on pony-back.’

  ‘Guards. Guarding against what? As far as Neufeld and company are concerned, we’re halfway over the Adriatic at this time.’

  ‘Andrea’s right,’ Mallory said. ‘Whatever else you may think about Neufeld, he’s a first-class officer who takes no chances. There’ll be guards.’ He glanced up to the night sky where a narrow bar of cloud was just approaching the face of the moon. ‘See that?’

  ‘I see it,’ Miller said miserably.

  ‘Thirty seconds, I’d say. We make a run for the far gable end of the block-house – there are no embrasures there. And for God’s sake, once we get there, keep dead quiet. If they hear anything, if they as much as suspect that we’re outside, they’ll bar the doors and use Petar and Maria as hostages. Then we’ll just have to leave them.’

  ‘You’d do that, sir?’ Reynolds asked.

  ‘I’d do that. I’d rather cut a hand off, but I’d do that. I’ve no choice, Sergeant.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I understand.’

  The dark bar of cloud passed over the moon. The five men broke from the concealment of the pines and pounded downhill through the deep clogging snow, heading for the farther gable-wall of t
he block-house. Thirty yards away, at a signal from Mallory, they slowed down lest the sound of their crunching, running footsteps be heard by any watchers who might be keeping guard by the embrasures and completed the remaining distance by walking as quickly and quietly as possible in single file, each man using the footprints left by the man in front of him.

  They reached the blank gable-end undetected, with the moon still behind the cloud. Mallory did not pause to congratulate either himself or any of the others. He at once dropped to his hands and knees and crawled round the corner of the block-house, pressing close into the stone wall.

  Four feet from the corner came the first of the embrasures. Mallory did not bother to lower himself any deeper into the snow – the embrasures were so deeply recessed in the massive stone walls that it would have been quite impossible for any watcher to see anything at a lesser distance than six feet from the embrasure. He concentrated, instead, on achieving as minimal a degree of sound as was possible, and did so with success, for he safely passed the embrasure without any alarm being raised. The other four were equally successful even though the moon broke from behind the cloud as the last of them, Groves, was directly under the embrasure. But he, too, remained undetected.

  Mallory reached the door. He gestured to Miller, Reynolds and Groves to remain prone where they were: he and Andrea rose silently to their feet and pressed their ears close against the door.

  Immediately they heard Droshny’s voice, thick with menace, heavy with hatred.

  ‘A traitress! That’s what she is. A traitress to our cause. Kill her now!’

  ‘Why did you do it, Maria?’ Neufeld’s voice, in contrast to Droshny’s, was measured, calm, almost gentle.

  ‘Why did she do it?’ Droshny snarled. ‘Money. That’s why she did it. What else?’

  ‘Why?’ Neufeld was quietly persistent. ‘Did Captain Mallory threaten to kill your brother?’

  ‘Worse than that.’ They had to strain to catch Maria’s low voice. ‘He threatened to kill me. Who would have looked after my blind brother then?’