Blood of Honour

away than that. It wasn’t a problem – it just meant allowing a little for the extra distance. Bringing the rifle to his shoulder, he closed his right eye and peered through the scope with the left, singling out falling paratroopers. They were a curious sight; he’d not seen parachutists falling from the sky before, but the straps seemed to emerge from their backs, so that each man hung there, like a puppy held by the scruff of its neck.

A plane-load was now dropping just to the south-west so, quickly taking his bead, he aimed a body length below his target, breathed in, held his breath, and fired. The first shot missed – too high? Aiming off a bit more, he picked out a second man and this time saw the body jerk. So, a body and a half was the aim-off length at five hundred yards. The key, he discovered, was to pick an aircraft of falling paratroopers, use the first few to judge the distance, then take aim the moment the ’chute opened.

In front of him the men were also firing, most wildly. Each time a plane caught fire, a cheer went up. The air was now heavy with smoke, so that he could no longer smell the sweet scent of May flowers and grass; the stench of battle had fallen on Heraklion. As Tanner put another two five-round clips in his magazine, he watched one enemy transport plunging out towards the sea, a body and parachute caught on the tail-plane. Jesus, he thought, poor bastard. More aircraft were dropping men further west, at the foot of the mountains near the coast, while others were landing in the maize fields and groves to the west of the town. They were too far away, so he lowered his rifle and peered through his binoculars.

He spotted some Cretan men and Greek soldiers scampering between the olives. A German had just landed in the branches and Tanner watched as he desperately tried to free himself. But now three Cretan men were upon him, dragging him out of the branches and beating him to death with their rifles. Another paratrooper, only just free of his ’chute, was attacked by several Greek soldiers charging at him with bayonets. Three men each lunged at him. For a moment the man stood, held up by the steel, then as they withdrew, he slumped to the ground. Vicious fighting, he thought. Everyone’s blood was up. He swept to the south-west, and noted movement below a shallow ridge more than half a mile away. Taking careful aim, he fired and saw a figure duck. A miss, but it might keep their heads down.

He waited a few more minutes, then looked at his watch. Ten to six. It seemed clear that the two main drop zones were the airfield and west of the town; the ground in front of them to the south was quiet. Leaving his position, he hurried back down the ridge and up to the company’s positions, where he had seen Peploe a few minutes before.

‘Good shooting, CSM?’ Peploe enquired, as Tanner reached him.

‘Piece of cake, sir,’ Tanner replied. ‘Those poor sods are sitting ducks once you get a bead on them.’

‘Rather them than me.’

‘Too right, sir.’

‘Well, so far so good, wouldn’t you say?’ Peploe peered through his own binoculars.

‘Early days yet, sir.’ Tanner looked around him, at the staggered slit trenches, the weapons and ammunition pits, each section carefully positioned for interlocking fire, and making the most of the trees, rocks and vegetation. These were not so much deeply dug as well positioned. It would, he knew, be hard for lightly armed German paratroopers to break through.

‘I got a good view from up there,’ he said, jerking a thumb at the outcrop behind them. ‘All the action’s over to the west. Why don’t we send out a fighting patrol?’

‘Where?’ asked Peploe.

‘I was thinking we could push out to the south-west. See what Jerry’s up to. It seems to me they’re going to be pretty disorganized at the moment. We could take advantage of that.’

Peploe nodded. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Who will you take?’

Tanner had already thought of that. ‘Sykes, and McAllister’s section, sir?’

‘All right, but take Mr Liddell and his Platoon HQ men as well.’

Tanner’s face fell. ‘Really, sir? Mr Liddell’s only just arrived.’

‘Then it’ll be good experience for him, won’t it? I need you two to work together, Jack. Prove to me that you can.’

Tanner swallowed. ‘Yes, of course, sir.’

The patrol was quickly assembled. Having sent runners to the neighbouring Greek regiment on their right and to A Company on their left, Peploe spoke with Liddell and Tanner while the men readied themselves, getting rid of any unnecessary kit. ‘CSM Tanner will lead the patrol,’ Peploe told them, ‘but, Mr Liddell, you are the officer, and are therefore ultimately in charge. But learn from him, Lieutenant. He has a lot of experience at this sort of thing.’

‘Anything else, sir?’ Liddell asked.

‘No, I don’t think so. Just have a look around.’

‘And if we come across any enemy?’

‘Engage if appropriate, but don’t get yourself into a compromising situation. You’ll have to use your judgement, Lieutenant.’ His expression relaxed. ‘But you’re in good hands with Tanner and Sykes.’

Tanner turned towards the men. Some wore jerseys or their battle blouses over their KD shirts, and he realized there was now the first nip of cooler evening air. The sun was lowering; soon it would be behind the great mountain range to the west. Leaning down to his pack, he pulled out his own khaki wool jersey. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Everyone ready?’ He took out his map, showing them where the buildings and wells were that he had marked earlier. ‘Any stragglers are likely to make for these,’ he told them, ‘so we need to be particularly careful there. I spotted Jerries here.’ He pointed first to the map then to the fold in the land to the south-west. ‘That’s where we’ll head – south first, using the olive groves for cover, then we cut across.’ He turned to Liddell. ‘All right, sir?’

‘Yes, I think so, CSM,’ said Liddell. ‘And we’ll use a formation for open country with the enemy in close contact.’

Tanner glanced at Sykes – what the hell is that? The sergeant winked. ‘Something like that, sir. I’ll take Chambers, Bonner and Sherston out front, Sykes can scout on the right with Bell, and you, sir, with McAllister, the Bren and the rest of the section, follow fifty yards or so behind.’

Liddell nodded. ‘Diamond formation?’

‘Absolutely, sir.’

‘And what if we lose sight of you?’

‘Try not to, sir. I said fifty yards, but what I meant was, stay behind at a distance where you can always see me.’ Tanner pulled his rifle from his shoulder, one hand around the barrel, the other on the neck of the stock, his finger and thumb touching the bolt. ‘Let’s go.’

Tanner led them through the olive groves, jogging so that they covered ground quickly. Two hundred yards or so on, he paused, glanced behind and then across at Sykes, saw everyone was still with him, and pressed on. After another couple of hundred yards, he turned westward until he was approaching the top of a shallow ridge. A grassy track marked the boundary between the olive groves and, beyond the ridge, a north-west-facing vineyard. It was here, just on the lip, that he had seen a paratrooper show his head a quarter of an hour earlier. Glancing back at the others, he raised his arm above his head to halt them, then looked across at Sykes and Bell and urged them on.

‘Stay here a moment,’ he told Chambers, Bonner and Sherston, then he too crept towards the brow of the ridge.

On his belly, Tanner lifted his head, scanned the ground quickly, then rolled over. In front of him there was a vineyard, the vines full of newly bursting fresh leaves. It was not big – perhaps sixty yards across – and another track was followed by more olive groves. To his right, the land rose again, gently, so that the ground before him was enclosed in a shallow hollow. Among the olives, several parachutes fluttered; a limp body hung from the branches, but he could see no enemy troops – not live ones, at any rate. Glancing across at Sykes and Bell, he saw the sergeant signal thumbs-up, then turned back to the others. ‘Hey, Punter,’ he called softly, to Chambers.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Signal to the others to come up, will you?’

‘Sir,’ Chambers replied.

Tanner scurried forward through the vines, noticing bootmarks in the dusty soil. He found Sykes and Bell standing over the body of a dead paratrooper.

‘Look at this, sir,’ said Bell. ‘Stomach wound, but he’s been shot in the head too.’

‘And at close range,’ said Tanner, looking down. ‘Someone put this boy out of his misery.’