The ship lurched, and Tanner glanced around and saw Peploe, McAllister and others from 1 Platoon, all clambering onto the rails. The gun crews were hurling several rubber dinghies overboard while, further along, lifeboats were being lowered.
‘Jack!’ called Sykes, beside him. ‘We’ve got to jump!’
Keeping his rifle on his back, but discarding his helmet and his Schmeisser, Tanner ducked under the railing, saw Sykes leap clear, then took a deep breath and jumped after him.
The cold sea enveloped him and he immediately felt his clothes and kit clinging to him heavily as he plunged downwards, then forced his way back to the surface. He knew he had to get away from the ship. Men were already filling the dinghies and clinging to the sides but he began to swim away, conscious of Sykes beside him.
The ship groaned again. As Tanner rolled onto his back he saw more men leaping from its side. Already his legs felt heavy, but he knew he had to keep moving – there was no time to discard his boots and kit just yet.
Sykes was gasping, arms flailing in a loose crawl, as behind men screamed and shouted. Suddenly there was a deafening tearing and grinding of metal and the ship began to turn in on itself, slowly at first, the stern and prow inching clear of the water. Tanner heard the screams of men still trapped on board, but then both ends of the ship rose high out of the sea, and seemed to hang there a moment before plunging towards the water with an agonizing screech and groan. Desperate screams from those left on board carried out across the sea, and Tanner watched as several men, arms waving helplessly, and a dinghy full of others, were sucked down with the sinking vessel.
Suddenly the ship was gone, the screaming had stopped, and all that was left were bits of flotsam and a swirling mass of white bubbles and surf.
The Stukas had flown off, their task complete. Treading water, Tanner looked around. Nearby several dinghies were filled with men and more clung to the sides. Tanner saw several of the Y Gun crew in a dinghy no more than thirty yards away, then spotted McAllister and Mercer and, clinging to the rope around it, Captain Peploe, Hepworth, Chambers and several others from 1 Platoon. Further away, one of the lifeboats was still picking up men, who were calling out, desperate to attract attention.
Tanner swam towards Sykes, who was treading water and trying to get rid of some of his kit. ‘You all right, Stan?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been better,’ he muttered. He turned his head towards a second dinghy. ‘We should try and grab onto that one.’
They swam towards it and found Bell and Woodman already inside, along with a few others of the ship’s crew. Lieutenant McDonald and Dicky Bonner were hanging on to the outside.
‘Ah, hello, you two,’ said McDonald, as Tanner and Sykes reached out and grabbed the ropes around the sides of the rubber boat. ‘Lovely morning for a swim.’
‘’Ere, sir,’ said Bell, as he noticed Tanner’s rifle still sticking up from his back. ‘Don’t you think you might be better off ditching that?’
‘Not at the moment, Tinker, no,’ said Tanner. ‘I’m not giving up this rifle that easily. I might still need it when we get back on land.’ He followed the others’ gaze. Crete seemed an unnervingly long way off. ‘Come on, boys,’ he said. ‘It’s only, what, six or seven miles? We can make it, can’t we?’ He looked around. Men were still swimming and flailing in the water. ‘Where’s Mr Liddell?’ He spotted him before his question could be answered, some forty yards away, clearly struggling.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Tanner. ‘Stupid bugger can’t even bloody well swim properly.’ He sighed, then said to Bell and Woodman, ‘Look after my stuff, will you?’ He passed up his rifle, then his boots, and finally his belt, pack and bayonet. ‘Drop any of them over the side, and I’ll bloody tip you over as well.’
He immediately felt light and stronger, and swam quickly towards Liddell, reaching him just as the lieutenant’s head dipped below water. Grabbing him, he put an arm around his chest and hoisted him up again. Liddell spluttered.
‘Easy does it,’ said Tanner, and began slowly making his way back towards the dinghy.
But just then, he heard a whir coming from the east that suddenly grew louder so that before he had realized what was happening two Messerschmitt 109s were hurtling towards them, diving out of the sun at high speed. They opened fire, lines of bullets spurting out small fountains of water. Tanner ducked, briefly letting go of Liddell, as bullets hissed through the water around him. Pushing himself up to the surface again, he grabbed Liddell once more, watched as the Messerschmitts climbed and headed on west, then heard cries. Both the dinghies near him were all right, but one of the lifeboats had been raked, several men hit, and now the vessel was sinking.
‘Bastards!’ said Tanner, then heard Liddell groan. Turning to look at his charge, he realized the water around them was colouring with cloudy dark blood. Liddell groaned again, and Tanner saw that blood was pulsing from his shoulder.
Damn it! Tanner cursed to himself, then grimacing, swam as quickly as he could back towards the dinghy, even though his arms and legs ached like hell with the effort of swimming and holding up Liddell.
‘Here!’ he said, as he reached out and grabbed one of the ropes. ‘Help me get him in. He’s been hit and he’s losing blood. Tinker, you’re going to have to duck out and make room for Mr Liddell.’
‘That’s all right, sir,’ said Bell. ‘I know my place.’
‘Just be bloody grateful you’re in one piece,’ growled Tanner. ‘Who’s still got some dressings?’ He managed to fish out two sodden packets from his denims, as others did the same. ‘Woody, see what you can do. That hole needs filling up quickly.’
‘I’ve been hit,’ mumbled Liddell. ‘Christ, I’ve been hit. Oh, God.’ Tears ran down his face.
‘You’re all right, sir,’ said Woodman. ‘Don’t you worry.’
‘Where’s that other dinghy?’ said Tanner. ‘And give Mr Liddell some water. There’s a full bottle on my webbing.’
‘Not far,’ said Woodman.
‘Then holler over to them, Woody,’ said Tanner. ‘We should try and stick together.’
Those outside the dinghy began kicking while those inside used their arms as paddles. They were slowly drawing towards the other dinghy, when a sailing boat was spotted coming towards them. Immediately the men started shouting and waving.
‘She’s coming towards us!’ said Woodman.
‘Good,’ said Sykes, ‘cos I’m getting bored of this already.’
Tanner now saw the boat: it was a caique very much like the one he had seen leaving Heraklion earlier. The two dinghies were only yards apart by the time the vessel drew towards them, and Tanner now saw that Captain Vaughan was standing at the prow alongside another British officer, ready with a rope. A wave of relief swept over him.
‘Alex!’ called Peploe, from the other dinghy.
‘John?’ called Vaughan, incredulously. ‘I had no idea it was your lot. Here.’ He lobbed the rope. ‘Those outside the dinghies, climb aboard. The others stay where you are. We’ll tow you.’
‘We’ve got a wounded man here, sir,’ called Tanner. ‘He’d be better off aboard.’
‘All right,’ said Vaughan, then recognized Tanner. ‘Good God, it’s you!’ he said. ‘Look, bring the dinghy alongside and we’ll get him out of there.’
The dinghy nudged alongside the caique. Woodman and the others in the life-craft carefully lifted Liddell, who groaned and cried out in pain. But Vaughan and one of his crew, a leathery-looking Englishman, took hold of him and hoisted him aboard.
‘Get him in the cabin, Cle,’ Vaughan said to his companion, ‘and give him a shot of morphine.’
Tanner now clambered aboard, pulling himself up with great effort and rolling over the side onto the deck. Getting to his feet, he leaned over and helped Sykes and then Bell up too, before asking Woodman to pass up his kit.
‘Damn glad to get these back,’ he said, clutching his things. ‘We worked hard to get those boots, Stan. I hated the thought of h
aving to chuck them.’
‘I lost my rifle, though,’ said Sykes. ‘We’re going to be a bit short of firepower once we get back on land.’
Tanner patted him on the back. ‘Something will crop up. We’ll be all right.’
The two dinghies were roped to the back of the caique, and then they picked up a third, and finally the two surviving lifeboats. They spent a further twenty minutes sweeping the sea for any more survivors. A further six men were picked up, but many more floating corpses were left in the water.
‘How many men were on the ship?’ Vaughan asked Peploe and Tanner.
‘Three companies, plus the crew. Over five hundred.’
‘And my head count comes to eighty-two. Jesus.’
Peploe swallowed and rubbed his eyes. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘All those men. They were alive half an hour ago and now …’ He shuddered. ‘I’ve lost most of the company.’
‘What happened?’ asked Vaughan.
‘The ship went down in about four minutes,’ said Tanner. ‘She had her back broken.’
‘And the captain?’
Tanner shook his head. ‘A second bomb hit the bridge.’
Vaughan scanned the sky. ‘I’m sorry. But if we want to survive as well, we need to get to land quickly.’ They stepped around the men crammed on the deck and moved over to the bearded, wild-looking skipper, standing beside an ageing Greek sailor at the wheel and the other British officer. ‘This is Commander Mike Cumberlege,’ he said, ‘and Lieutenant Colonel Nick Hammond.’
Peploe looked at Hammond. ‘Pleased to see you again, sir.’
‘Again?’ said Hammond.
‘I attended some of your lectures at Cambridge, sir, before the war.’
Hammond smiled. ‘Well, well, well. I wish we could be meeting in happier times. I’m sorry about your loss.’
‘Thank you for picking us up,’ said Peploe. ‘I’m not sure we’d have all made it otherwise.’
‘We nearly didn’t,’ said Vaughan. ‘We’ve had to leave Commander Cumberlege’s caique in Suda and commandeer this instead.’
‘Miaoules is a fine vessel in many ways,’ said Cumberlege, ‘but the engine’s on the blink, I’m afraid. Cracked cylinder head.’
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Peploe.
‘Might be all right,’ said Cumberlege, ‘if we take her steady. But we’re going to head straight into Limenas. It’s tucked into a headland about twenty-five miles east of Heraklion, it’s – how shall I say? – discreet. I’m afraid it’s way too risky to keep going along this north coast today.’
‘Thank you,’ said Peploe.
‘But tonight we can take some of you on. I don’t see why we can’t try and tow the lifeboats as well.’
‘I do,’ said Hammond. ‘It’s risky enough moving a boat like this at all. As it is, we’ll need to pull in for the day somewhere along the south-east coast tomorrow morning. Then we’ve got to get all the way across the Mediterranean with the engine under enough strain as it is. A small lone fishing vessel is not particularly conspicuous, but one towing two lifeboats most definitely is.’
Cumberlege shrugged. ‘I’m prepared to give it a go. Perhaps we should put it to the men when we get to Limenas.’
‘What’s the alternative?’ asked Peploe.
‘You make your way to the mountains and hole up until things quieten down, or head straight to the south coast and try to take a boat across then. But I should warn you, the south coast is very different from the north. Lots of plunging cliffs and only a handful of places where a caique can get in.’
‘Golly,’ said Peploe. ‘What to do for the best?’
‘Was it you I saw leaving harbour earlier?’ Tanner asked.
Vaughan nodded, then glanced at Hammond. A nod of consent.
‘We’re moving arms and explosives,’ said Vaughan. ‘We brought them from Suda Island at the beginning of the month and they’ve been stored in Heraklion ever since. I was hoping to have them moved a few days ago, but then the town was bombed and the street they were on was blocked. There wasn’t any way of getting them out that night. Instead, we’ve been moving what we can bit by bit.’
‘To Limenas?’ asked Tanner.
‘Yes. The Germans haven’t reached there yet. We’re hoping they still won’t have done.’
‘They’ll be too busy today opening up the airfield and pushing into Heraklion,’ said Hammond. ‘We’ve got a day’s grace, maybe two.’
‘It’s for Satanas,’ said Vaughan. ‘We’ve been moving it up to the Ida Mountains.’
‘And have you got it all out now?’ asked Tanner.
Vaughan shook his head. ‘But it’s booby-trapped.’
The sun was already warm, and the men soon began to dry, white patches of salt appearing on their uniforms. Tanner felt in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes, but the packet was still sodden. He sighed.
‘Here,’ said Cumberlege, passing him a crumpled packet.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Tanner. He was hungry too, but he felt better for the smoke. Crete was getting nearer once more – he could see the headland Cumberlege had mentioned jutting out. It looked serenely peaceful – a beautiful island waking up to a perfect early summer’s day.
The captain’s cousin, Cle Cumberlege, and Lieutenant McDonald emerged from the cabin.
‘How’s Mr Liddell?’ asked Peploe.
‘Asleep,’ said McDonald. ‘The salt water has meant the wound is clean. The bullet also went right through him. We’re pretty sure it’s not hit anything vital.’
‘He should live,’ added Cle. ‘We can take him with us tonight.’
‘What about you, Alex?’ asked Peploe.
‘I’m staying for the moment,’ he said, ‘to help with the resistance. Now that Pendlebury’s gone.’
‘You too, sir?’ Peploe asked Hammond.
Hammond shook his head. ‘No, I’ve been ordered back to Cairo.’
The sky remained clear. Only the faintest of breezes wisped across the sea – enough to help dry the men, but barely strong enough to fill the sails. That was why the caique was being powered by its engine. However, as they drew towards Limenas, it began to splutter, with thick, oily smoke puffing out.
‘Bugger it!’ exclaimed Cumberlege, as the men exchanged anxious glances. ‘Cle,’ he said to his cousin, ‘go and have a look, will you?’ Cle disappeared into the cabin and the skipper cursed again. ‘Damn and buggeration! It’s the bloody cylinder head.’ He glanced at Peploe and Tanner. ‘They’re old, that’s the trouble, and we’ve been pushing them too hard.’
Cle emerged some minutes later. ‘She’s not good. We’re very low on oil.’
‘Should we shut her down?’
‘No, let’s keep going. We should be all right, but we’re going to need more oil.’
Eventually they made it, easing into the tiny harbour with its long, protective breakwater. Wearily, the men clambered out of the dinghies and lifeboats and up onto the quayside. They looked a motley bunch after their time in the water – many were without boots or any kit. Several guerrillas were waiting and eyed them with barely concealed contempt. Pushing past the men, a couple of the Cretans jumped down onto the boat and began shifting crates and boxes onto the quay, while two others loaded them onto a waiting cart.
The men, still shaken from their traumatic experience earlier, stood about helplessly, then began to sit down where they were, or drifted away to a wall across the road.
‘This is no good,’ said Peploe, to Tanner and McDonald. He rubbed his brow.
They watched Cle and Mike Cumberlege talking with a Cretan, pointing to the caique, then all three jumped back on board and disappeared into the cabin. Hammond and Vaughan were helping with the boxes of supplies, but the task was quickly finished. Seeing Peploe, Hammond called, ‘Let me find out what’s going on.’
He emerged a short while later with Commander Cumberlege and Vaughan, and all three joined Peploe on the quayside.
‘Th
e crack is bad but it should still function. We’re hoping we can get some oil and then we’ll give it another go tonight,’ said Hammond.
‘What are the chances of reaching Egypt?’ asked Peploe.
Mike Cumberlege sighed and fingered his earring. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the engine’s losing oil. It’ll splutter and cough and complain like hell, but it should keep going so long as we can keep topping it up. If we can find some spare, then we should be all right. Otherwise the engine will seize. Trouble is, we can’t mend the cylinder head here. There are neither the parts nor the tools.’
‘Will the number of people you take make a difference to the performance of the engine?’ Peploe asked.
‘If we overload the boat, it’ll put a greater strain on it. We won’t be carrying the supplies, but even so.’ He tugged at his earring again. ‘But I still think that if we can get some oil, we could tow the lifeboats tonight. If we’re lucky we’ll get around to the south coast. Maybe we can find another boat.’
‘Realistically,’ said Peploe, ‘how many could you take?’
‘Twenty-five, perhaps thirty. Plus those in the lifeboats.’
‘So we’re a dozen too many.’
‘Look, let me talk to the men,’ said Hammond. He called them to gather around him. When they had done so, he briefly scanned the sky, then said, ‘The caique needs oil. We’re going to try and find some, and if we get it, we should be able to keep going. Commander Cumberlege will hopefully leave here at dusk. He’s willing to tow the lifeboats. It may well be that we find another boat – we’re going to skirt close to the shore – but we’ll definitely have to moor up again tomorrow even if the boat does make it around the island to the south coast.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Or you may feel you have a better chance simply heading off on foot and trying to find a boat on the south coast. There’s room for seventy men at a push. Have a think. I’m not going to order you to do anything.’
Peploe immediately called over McDonald, Tanner and Lieutenant Timmins. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What do you think?’
Blood of Honour Page 25
