Blood of Honour

‘But I will say this, sir. I know he thought a lot of your father. ’E did tell me that. Said he was a real good man. Looked up to him.’

‘Yes,’ said Liddell, his brow furrowing. ‘I just need to make sure he looks up to me too, don’t I?’

CSM Tanner was forward of the Rangers’ positions, making a further reconnoitre of the ground around them. A series of valleys fed down towards the town, valleys that were quite sparsely populated – just a few farms and clusters of houses. The land was lush, however, filled with olive groves, vineyards and small fields of still-young wheat, oats and maize. If any Germans landed, he reckoned they’d find good cover there. On the other hand, they would find it hard to advance. The British positions were pretty good: the men were well dug in, the Brens and mortars carefully positioned with excellent cover, while behind was the edge of the town, and then the huge Venetian bastions and walls of the old town. Those would take some storming.

From their positions at the edge of the town, the ground rose very gently some four hundred yards, offering as clear a line of fire as was possible in this broken landscape of vines and groves and trees. He and Peploe had considered leaving permanent pickets on the ridgeline, but then had decided there was little point: it was just too far and risked leaving the men isolated and exposed. If they were attacked in overwhelming force, it would be better to fall back to the town and the walls, somewhat crumbling after long years of decay but still a formidable obstacle.

He crested the ridge and looked down towards Knossos. Among the plane trees he saw the Villa Ariadne, marked on his map, and a little further on, the ruins themselves. Through his binoculars he could see the walls and columns of the ancient palace, while to the east, overlooking the site, lay another long ridge, the current limit of the Rangers’ front. To the west, another shallower ridge, and beyond that a further valley, narrower than the one they were currently in, and from which rose the Ida Mountains, which now, in the afternoon heat, stood clear and jagged against the cloudless sky. There was no denying it: Crete was a bloody beautiful place. He looked back towards the town, and then east, where most of the brigade were dug in. The airfield lay on flat land next to the coast. Nothing stirred; there was not a single aircraft there, and it occurred to him then that General Freyberg would have been better off destroying it, or at least disabling it.

Tanner shook his head and moved on; there was still work to be done. On his map, he carefully marked whatever buildings he came across – houses, sheds, barns and wells. When he got back to Company Headquarters, he would then make a note of the distances; he had a feeling they would be useful if it ever came to a battle.

Tanner was glad to be alone, out in the Crete countryside, away from the knowing looks and nudges. He was also grateful to be able to avoid Lieutenant Liddell. Jesus, he could have throttled him, the sodding big-mouth. He’d never liked him as a boy. Too spoiled by half. And that look on Peploe’s face – what was it? Surprise – yes, but something more. Disappointment. Tanner winced again, just thinking about it. He’d told them he had lied about his age when he joined the army and had changed his name so that no one could trace him. Tanner had been his mother’s maiden name, he told Peploe and the colonel. ‘It’s just a name,’ he had said. Had they believed him? They’d seemed to, but now he was not the person they’d thought he was. But I am. He no longer thought of himself as Jack Scard; it was a name that had belonged to someone else entirely. Someone he had left behind a long time ago.

He began walking down towards the road, and as he did so, he paused to sweep the valley once more with his binoculars. They were particularly good ones, a pair of Zeiss that had once belonged to a German officer. He’d taken them in Norway, and had looked after them well ever since, even managing to bring them back safely from Dunkirk, which was more than could be said for much of their kit. Even during his time in the Western Desert he’d managed to keep the glass clean without a single sand scratch.

He now saw someone walking down the road and, focusing his binoculars on the figure, saw that it was Captain Peploe. Tanner hurried on, clambering over several walls and through a vineyard to reach the road. Peploe was up ahead, only a few hundred yards from the Knossos site entrance, when a battered pick-up truck of faded brown sped past Tanner. It was the first vehicle he’d seen in days. He watched it pull to a halt beside the captain.

Tanner ran, calling to Peploe, who now looked up, waved him on and then turned back to the people in the truck.

‘It’s happening,’ he said, as Tanner reached him. ‘Germans are landing at Canea.’

‘But not here.’

‘Not yet.’

Tanner looked into the truck. Alopex, John Pendlebury and another British officer were sitting inside. Bloody hell, he thought, that’s all I need.

‘You!’ growled Alopex.

‘Tanner, I presume?’ grinned Pendlebury. He wore a patch over his left eye. ‘Captain, we could do with a couple of pairs of hands. Will you help?’

Peploe looked at his watch. ‘If it’s quick and you can drive us back to our positions.’

‘It will be if you help, and, yes, by all means. Jump in the back.’

‘Sir,’ said Tanner, ‘we haven’t got time for this. Jerry could attack any moment.’

‘It’ll be quicker than us walking back.’

‘We could run.’

‘Stop arguing, Jack, and get in.’

Almost immediately, they turned off to the right, up the drive-way of the Villa Ariadne, lined with squat palms, tall firs, clematis and bamboo. At the end of the drive, the truck pulled into a gravel circle before the house, a limestone turn-of-the-century building with a flat roof and large, shuttered windows. A flight of stone steps led up to the main entrance, but it was to a store at the back that Pendlebury now led them. Unlocking it, he pushed open the door, which squeaked, then said, ‘Here. We need to get them into the back of the truck.’

Inside were boxes of rifles, several Brens, ammunition and grenades.

‘Where did you get all this from?’ Peploe asked.

‘Oh, we’ve been stashing it up for a while,’ Pendlebury said. ‘Captain Vaughan here has been helping me. How many trips have we done now from Suda Island, Alex?’

‘A dozen, perhaps,’ said Vaughan.

‘It’s been a struggle, I can tell you,’ continued Pendlebury. ‘I’ll admit I’m not an experienced soldier, but you regulars are not very keen on helping the irregulars. London gives me the job of helping to organize and arm these local andartes but no one at Middle East HQ is prepared to help. We’ve had to rely on stealth and guile and good old-fashioned thievery. It’s been fun, though, hasn’t it, Alex?’

Vaughan smiled resignedly. For some, maybe. Suddenly a gun opened fire from the direction of the port, and then another, followed by the faint roar of aircraft and the tell-tale siren of Stukas. Bombs exploded, dull crumps to the north. The men paused.

‘An overture to invasion?’ said Pendlebury.

‘Or maybe just the daily hate,’ said Peploe.

Tanner looked at them – let’s get a bloody move on then – and grabbed a box of ammunition.

‘Yes, you’re quite right, Tanner,’ said Pendlebury. ‘We mustn’t dally.’

They began loading, taking the cache box by box to the truck. It was as Tanner was striding back to the shed that Alopex grabbed his arm and steered him to the side of the building, out of sight of the others.

‘Get your hands off me,’ said Tanner, shaking his arm free.

‘This isn’t finished,’ hissed the Cretan. ‘I said I’d kill you and I will.’

Tanner felt something sharp press against his side and looked down to see Alopex had a knife in his hand. He grabbed the Cretan’s wrist. ‘How can you be so sure I won’t kill you first?’

Alopex sneered. ‘Listen to me. For now, we fight the Germans. But after …’ He let the sentence hang. ‘After, we have a debt to settle. So don’t run away on me now.’

Tanner pressed his thumb hard into the tendons on Alopex’s wrist. The Cretan grimaced with pain and the blade fell from his fingers.

‘Oh dear, you seem to have dropped your knife,’ said Tanner. He stared at Alopex, then turned and walked back to the shed.

In less than ten minutes they had finished loading the truck and were heading towards Heraklion, Tanner and Peploe perched on the boxes at the back. The guns and explosions were dying out, but over Heraklion and the