Blood of Honour

by James Holland

  Pendlebury had established a network of informers that stretched all the way to the mainland, and three days earlier had received word from one – via a trip across the sea – that the German invasion had just been postponed but was still imminent. Over the past months Pendlebury, along with Vaughan and his fellow SOE officers, Jack Hanford and Terence Bruce-Mitford, had devoted much energy to organizing the local kapitans into guerrilla forces should the invasion come. Vaughan, if he was honest, had always questioned the value of Crete to the Germans, but Pendlebury had insisted the enemy would invade, and for that, he argued, they needed to be prepared. He had been proved right that afternoon and, thanks to him, they now had arms stashes all over the island, but especially in the mountains, from where Pendlebury hoped the fight could be continued should the worst happen and the British be defeated.

  The previous day, Hanford had left Heraklion to organize the guerrillas in the mountains, but Vaughan had remained behind with Pendlebury to help defend the town. ‘I’m sure the Greek regiments will fight,’ Pendlebury had said, ‘and so will the British. But the ones who will fight hardest are the Cretans. It is their island, after all.’ Therefore he had armed as many as he could, and while many of the guerrillas – or andartes, as they were known – had remained in their mountain villages, some had joined him in Heraklion, men like Alopex, the village patriarch of Sarhos, a village on the lower slopes of the Ida range, and the head of an influential family olive-pressing business.

  Alopex had known Pendlebury for years, helping with his digs before the war and with organizing the planned resistance since the latter’s arrival back on the island the previous year. It was from Pendlebury that Alopex had learned English. Vaughan had recognized that this had been a smart move: Pendlebury was universally admired by the Cretan patriarchs, and Alopex’s close ties to this eccentric but beloved Englishman had only enhanced his own standing.

  Alopex had also been at Pendlebury’s when the paratroopers attacked, and so too had Satanas, the most influential kapitan of them all. Satanas was from Krousonas, a large mountain village higher in the Ida Mountains than Alopex’s home. As Vaughan had discovered when he had first visited Krousonas, Satanas was the unquestioned village patriarch and a legend on Crete as a man who had fanatically fought the Turks more than forty years before. It was said that he had survived so many Turkish bullets that he must be the devil himself; that, Vaughan had been told in awed tones more times than he could remember, was why everyone knew him as Satanas.

  Vaughan could only guess at Satanas’s age, but tall and broad, with a mass of thick white hair, a luxuriant moustache, and dark unblinking eyes, he was an imposing figure. Pendlebury had done well to win his affection; in Satanas he had one of his most trusted collaborators. And with Satanas and Alopex beside him, Pendlebury’s efforts to unite the townsmen of Heraklion against the invader had been made that much easier. Satanas was also respected by the Greek commanders in Heraklion. There were three under-strength Greek battalions holding the town, around fifteen hundred men in all, and thanks to Pendlebury’s urging, with Alopex’s and especially Satanas’s influence, the Greek commanders had agreed to line the walls with snipers. It was funny, Vaughan had reflected, that although there were Greek colonels and majors in Heraklion, it was Pendlebury and Satanas, both barely trained in soldiering, who were most assuredly in command. Some people, he supposed, were natural leaders of men.

  Their leadership skills would be tested again now that the Germans were launching an attack. In the bar, Pendlebury had smiled and pushed back his chair. ‘We mustn’t dally here.’

  Vaughan had rubbed his face and eyes, finished his coffee and raki, and followed him outside.

  That had been twenty minutes ago, and although they had held off the attackers successfully at the Canea Gate, they had then heard increasingly heavy fighting just over a hundred yards to the south. Vaughan had hurried off to see for himself what was going on. At the Alpha Company, the 3rd Greek Battalion, headquarters there was heavy fighting and as he hurried along the street he heard machine-gun fire from outside the walls and from within the 3rd Battalion building. There were already a number of dead, and then he saw a squad of paratroopers, half hidden by the shadows, crouching along the edge of the street and about to storm the building.

  He wondered where the hell the rest of the battalion was. Clearly, reinforcements were urgently needed, but most of the 3rd Greek Battalion was already strung out manning the walls as far as the sea. Battalion HQ was in the Bethlehem Bastion, another two hundred yards further along the west wall of the town, but there was no sign of any attempt being made to help Alpha Company fend off the breach in the defences. He wondered whether he could work his way round the back and reach Bethlehem Bastion by avoiding Plastira altogether. There was, he knew, a narrow alleyway that ran behind the houses along Plastira. Perhaps if he was quick, he could cut through that way.

  Turning down Stratigou Vassou, a narrow street running away from the walls, he stepped into the alley only to be met by a burst of sub-machine-gun fire. He flung himself to the ground, bullets slapping into the stonework above his head, then glanced up to see the darkened shapes of a number of dead Greek soldiers. Damn it. Now the Germans had the building and could pour through the breach at will. Sliding on his front, he inched out of the alley and ran back towards the Canea Gate.

  Fighting could now be heard to the north of the town, towards the sea, and Vaughan realized they had been duped. The attack on the Canea Gate had been nothing more than a feint, drawing their fire and attention, while the enemy attacked two of the weak points. And yet he had reckoned that Alpha Company’s defences had been good. Goddamn it, he had visited them that very afternoon. Those Greek soldiers had held the buildings beyond the gate and those directly opposite the gap in the wall. Even highly trained German paratroopers should not have been able to breach them. They might live in modern times, yet he had recognized that the walls held the key to the town’s defence. Without any heavy firepower, no paratrooper, armed with rifle or machine-gun, should ever have been able to break through, even in the places where the walls had started to crumble.

  But it had happened and now they needed to work out a way of forcing the enemy back. He found Pendlebury with Alopex, Satanas and a distraught Greek captain desperately trying to gather men together at the foot of the walls. Around them were a cluster of Cretans and Greek troops.

  ‘Well?’ said Pendlebury, as Vaughan reached them.

  ‘It’s bad,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Jerry’s through between here and Bethlehem. They’ve got Alpha Company Headquarters. I tried to get through to Battalion at Bethlehem Bastion but failed, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s a bore,’ said Pendlebury, ‘although I guessed as much. It’s why we’re organizing our guerrillas here.’

  It was now almost dark, but a bright moon and a canopy of stars shone a milky light across the town so that it was still possible to see clearly out of the shadows.

  ‘We need reinforcements,’ said Vaughan. ‘I can’t understand why the rest of 3rd Battalion haven’t mounted a counter-attack.’

  ‘Because most of their men are already along these walls down to the sea,’ said Alopex.

  ‘It’s the 7th Battalion that needs to launch the counter-attack from the south,’ said Pendlebury. ‘Perhaps they’re worried about an attack from the south.’

  ‘Why don’t I head to Jesus Bastion and see if I can get some help from the Yorks Rangers?’ said Vaughan. ‘I can get across town if I’m quick.’

  Pendlebury nodded. ‘Yes, all right. Satanas and I will stay here with Kapitan Milos and try to hold the gate. Alopex, you take some of your men and see what’s going on down by the sea. Get the Garrison Battalion at the harbour if necessary.’

  Vaughan glanced at the motley band of men now with Pendlebury: Greek soldiers with rifles and old uniforms, puttees wrapped all the way to their knees, and Cretan guerrillas, waist-coated, high-booted, with bandoliers around their waists an
d across their chests. He knew that Pendlebury was right to suppose the Cretans at least would fight with passion, but was that enough against highly trained German paratroopers? Looking at them, he doubted it. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he said now, then turned and began to run.

  Captain Peploe and CSM Tanner had hurried to Battalion HQ as soon as they heard the fighting going on to the west of the town. It was perfectly obvious to Tanner that they should send reinforcements and Peploe was of the same opinion.

  ‘What about holding the line here?’ Colonel Vigar had asked.

  ‘Sir, we know most of the enemy in our sector landed to the west of the town,’ said Peploe. ‘CSM Tanner led a patrol earlier and he was able to confirm that those troops that landed further south have been making their way west to join the rest of their forces there.’

  ‘And now they’re attacking.’ Vigar scratched his chin with his thumb. ‘Hmm. And we’ve not had any requests for help. For all we know they might be holding on easily.’

  ‘Sir, I’m not sure how many Jerries came down this evening,’ said Tanner, ‘but they won’t have enough to attack the west of the town and here in the south.’

  ‘All right, Tanner,’ said the colonel, a touch of irritation in his voice. ‘Don’t get above yourself. I do understand what you’re saying, you know.’ He now drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I suppose we do have quite a lot of men around the airfield, but what worries me is if Jerry launches an attack from the south using those men that have dropped around the airfield. Those wallahs that landed to the west make their attack, drawing what we’ve got over there, and then the eastern lot attack us from the south. Jerry always has lots of radios, you know.’

  ‘That’s surely unlikely, sir,’ said Peploe.

  ‘But we still need to hold the line here,’ said Vigar. ‘How are you proposing we manage that?’

  ‘By leaving one or two platoons from each company. We have machine-guns here, sir, and rifles, and flares. Two platoons can hold this line even if the enemy does attack from the south.’

  Colonel Vigar eyed each of them, then glanced across at Major Ryan, his second-in-command. ‘What d’you think, Tom?’

  ‘I’m with Peploe and Tanner, sir,’ he replied. ‘But if you’re unsure, why don’t I put a call through to Brigade?’

  Vigar nodded. ‘Yes, all right.’

  Major Ryan picked up the phone and rang through to Brigade HQ to the west of the airfield. ‘Yes, the enemy is attacking the west of the town … Yes … We are proposing to send reinforcements … All right.’ He paused a moment and glanced back at the others. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said at last. ‘Oh, I see. I’ll tell Colonel Vigar that, sir. Yes, very good, sir.’ Major Ryan put down the phone. ‘They think it very unlikely that Jerry will manage an attack tonight from the south. We’re to send reinforcements.’

  Colonel Vigar clapped his hands together, as was his way. ‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘All right, then. Two platoons from each company it is. Peploe, get your men ready right away.’ He turned to Major Ryan. ‘Tom, you’re in charge. Get word up to the other companies, but I suggest Peploe and his mob get going as soon as they can. We’ll send runners on ahead now – find out where we can best deploy.’

  Peploe and Tanner saluted, then hurried from the Jesus Bastion back out to company lines, where orders were quickly issued. Peploe had decided that 3 and 4 Platoons should remain behind holding the lines, with Lieutenant Ivo McDonald in charge. He would lead 1 and 2 Platoons. Tanner stuffed a flare gun into his belt, grabbed extra rounds for his Enfield revolver and helped himself to more grenades, which he packed into his haversack. He then told Sykes and Sergeant White to make sure their men had also got enough grenades. ‘Make sure they have as much ammo as they can carry,’ he told them. ‘I reckon ammo’s one thing Jerry’s going to be short of, so we need to make sure we’ve got more than him.’

  In just over ten minutes they were ready and moving out, down along the Knossos road and through the town walls in double-quick time. It was there, as they passed Battalion Headquarters, that they met Captain Vaughan, fresh from seeing Colonel Vigar.

  ‘Thank God for someone with a bit of foresight,’ he said, as he joined Peploe and Tanner at the front of their column. ‘We need you desperately, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Have they broken into the town, then?’ asked Peploe.

  Vaughan nodded. ‘I only hope it’s not too late already.’

  8

  A little before 9 p.m., 20 May. As the Rangers hurried across the Platia Ekaterinis, the cathedral looming darkly beside them, the sound of fighting became suddenly closer, so much so that Tanner could hear the shouts and cries of men above the reports of small arms. At the end of Agio Mina, they faced Kalokerinou, the long straight road that led to the Canea Gate. Halting the men, Tanner moved cautiously forward with Captain Vaughan, and looked down towards the town walls. Muzzle flashes punctured the dark, shapes moved in and out of the shadows and bursts of machine-gun fire and rifle shots resounded sharply between the buildings lining either side of the street.

  They stepped back again.

  ‘Let me go forward and try to find out what’s going on,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Peploe.

  ‘No, you’d better stay here with the men. Let me take Tanner.’

  ‘All right – but if you’re not back in five minutes I’m moving the men on.’

  Vaughan and Tanner slipped back into Kalokerinou, carefully inching their way down the street. The fighting seemed to be concentrated around the confluence of streets before the Canea Gate, but suddenly there was shouting and men were running back. Tanner saw German paratroopers race across the mouth of the road, spectral shadows briefly lit by the light of the moon. Then, a moment later, they opened up with several short bursts of automatic fire. Several men cried out, as Tanner brought his rifle to his shoulder. His aim was blocked, however, by the retreating rabble. Feet clattered across the stone as a group of men hurried down the street. Several yards ahead three stopped, fired back down the road, and then, breathing heavily, pulled into the shadows beside them.

  ‘This is bloody chaos,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘Alex, you’re back,’ said a voice Tanner recognized instantly as Pendlebury’s. ‘Have you brought reinforcements?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Vaughan, as Tanner crept past him.

  ‘Alopex!’ Pendlebury called, then said to Vaughan, ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Agio Mina.’

  ‘Alopex,’ said Pendlebury again. ‘Call the men to you in the Agio Mina.’

  A grunt of acknowledgement and Tanner heard him summon them. A few more now scampered back down the street, as Tanner fired a white flare into the air, then quickly thrust the Very pistol back into his belt and took out his rifle. The flare whooshed into the sky, burst with a crack, and hissed as it descended, casting a white glow over the far end of the street, illuminating the walls and the Canea Gate with a flood of magnesium and, at the same time, revealing in clear light a number of paratroopers now moving along the sides of the street. They immediately ran back but not before Tanner had aimed his rifle and fired five shots in rapid succession. He hit two men, but the aim had been to push them back for a minute or two and even to sow doubt in them.

  ‘We need to be quick, sir,’ he said, walking backwards down the edge of the street. ‘That won’t hold them off long.’

  ‘Come on, John,’ said Vaughan. ‘There are seventy Rangers waiting round the corner.’

  ‘Seventy? Well done, Alex, well done indeed!’ All three men now took to their heels as shots rang out down the street once more. Turning the corner, they found Peploe waiting. More shots followed, and there was also gunfire to the north towards the sea.

  ‘The Huns are all over the place, I’m afraid,’ said Pendlebury. Tanner was now conscious of Alopex standing beside Pendlebury with around twenty Cretan andartes behind him. ‘They’re through the Canea Gate, perhaps have the Bethlehem Bastion, and are work
ing their way east through the streets.’

  ‘And what’s happening on the seafront?’

  ‘They’re through there as well. The remnants of the 3rd Greek and Garrison Battalions are fighting them. But we need to knock back this lot first. Do that, and the northern prong might run out of steam.’

  Jesus, thought Tanner. They needed to get a bloody move on. ‘Sir,’ he said to Peploe, ‘what about getting some men watching on that street corner? One of the Brens, sir.’

  Peploe nodded. ‘Sykes!’ he called in a low voice. ‘Get a Bren on that corner.’

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘I suggest we move up to the next street that crosses Kalokerinou,’ said Vaughan, his voice urgent, ‘and place the two Brens either side, keeping the enemy at the Canea Gate pinned down. From there we can send sections down along the streets that run to the walls.’

  ‘All right,’ said Peploe.

  ‘We need guides, sir,’ said Tanner. ‘Men who know this town like the back of their hands.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Tanner,’ agreed Peploe. ‘Captain Pendlebury?’

  Pendlebury spoke quickly to the Cretans. Tanner glanced at Alopex and caught his eye. The Cretan drew a finger across his neck. Like a sodding bad penny, thought Tanner, raising his middle finger towards him.

  Peploe hurriedly issued his orders, dividing the platoons so that one was sent across the far side of Kalokerinou, and others kept to the south. As they set off, Tanner passed Lieutenant Liddell, fumbling with his revolver. ‘All right, sir?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Tanner.’ A forced smile.

  They moved forward, initially three platoons together, down a short, narrow road and across a wider street, until they reached a small triangle. Pausing, Tanner saw a number of palms and planes rising from the centre. Heavy firing continued to the north, but in their part of the town, there was desultory shooting only. He wondered what the enemy were planning, what they were thinking. Were they expecting a counter-attack or would they be assuming the Greek forces there had fled? He gripped his rifle. Time would soon tell.