‘There’s a load of dead Greeks up there,’ said Sykes, waving towards the crest of the ridge. He turned back to the dead paratrooper. ‘Look at those boots, though. I’m tempted to ’alf-inch ’em.’
‘Too big for you, Stan,’ grinned Tanner. ‘You need to pick on someone your own size.’
‘All right, all right,’ said Sykes. ‘But I’d rather be on the short side than a big lad like you, sir.’
‘Why’s that, Stan?’
‘Less of a target.’
‘Talking of which,’ said Tanner, ‘let’s push on. Tinker,’ he said to Bell, ‘you go ahead a bit with Punter. See what’s round that bend. There are plenty of tracks here – see if you can follow the Jerries. My guess is they’ve headed north to the west of the town where most of them were dropping.’
‘What about me, sir?’ asked Sykes.
‘I need to speak to you. Tinker, take Bonner and Sherston with you as well. If it’s clear up ahead, leave two men to keep watch, then come back. All right? Now, iggery, boys.’
The four men hurried off, and Sykes said, ‘I did speak to him, you know.’
‘Tell me in a moment,’ said Tanner, pushing on down through the vines. At the edge of the vineyard they now saw there was a short four-foot terrace alongside the track. Jumping down, they looked around. Back along the track, they could see a figure lying on the ground, ran over and found a dead, grey-haired Cretan lying face down in the grass. There was a neat hole in his back, but rolling him over they saw an exit wound the size of a fist. Thick blood had stained the front of his shirt and waistcoat and the surrounding grass.
‘Shot in the back,’ said Sykes.
‘For his cart,’ added Tanner, pointing to the tracks.
The rest of the patrol was now clambering out of the vines.
‘You talked to him, then?’ Tanner said, in a low voice.
‘You don’t need to worry, Jack,’ said Sykes, using Tanner’s Christian name out of earshot of the others. ‘He thinks you left because your father died and because you were too young to take over from him.’
‘Who’s saying that wasn’t the case?’ Tanner snapped.
‘No one, Jack. No one’s saying anything. That’s the point.’
Tanner sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Stan. Didn’t mean to take it out on you. One of these days I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘His old man died,’ said Sykes.
‘Died?’ Tanner wiped his brow. ‘I’m sorry – as I said before, he was a good man.’
‘I told Mr Liddell you thought that. That’s why he joined the Rangers and not any of the Wiltshire lot. Thought he’d follow his father.’
Tanner nodded. ‘That explains it.’
Liddell was now walking towards them. ‘What’s going on, Tanner?’ he said, as he neared them. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘I’ve sent men on to scout up ahead, sir. We’re where the Jerries started dropping. Earlier I saw some canisters coming down around here, so I thought we could have a quick look around for them while we wait for Bell and Chambers to report back.’
‘’Ere, sir,’ said Sykes now, pointing towards an olive grove a short distance from the track. ‘There’s a couple of dead Jerries over there.’
‘So there are. Come on, then.’ Tanner and Sykes hurried across a narrow strip of rough grass, then reached the olives. Pushing their way between the young trees, they reached the first of the dead men, some twenty yards from the other, lying in the grass.
‘Good,’ said Tanner. ‘This one’s still got his weapon. Have a look at the other one, Stan.’ Tanner picked up the dead man’s sub-machine-gun, and admired it. It was light, with a comfortable grip, and beautifully engineered. He looked at the safety catch, the cocking handle and the magazine, which he removed and replaced easily and smoothly. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, he squatted down to strip the man of his spare magazines.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ said Liddell, beside him.
‘Taking his weapon, sir. Say what you like about Jerry, they make beautiful kit.’
‘Put it back, CSM.’
‘What?’ said Tanner. He stared at Liddell incredulously.
‘Put it back. We’re on a patrol, CSM, not a booty hunt.’
‘Sir, this is a good weapon. We don’t have anything as good as this.’
‘Nor are you trained to use it.’
‘Trained? I don’t need training in how to use this.’ He picked it up and pulled back the cock. ‘Aim, fire. Sir.’
‘Put it down, Tanner. That’s an order.’
Tanner glared at him. ‘For God’s sake,’ he said, flinging the weapon onto the ground.
‘Right,’ said Liddell. ‘Now let’s get back to the patrol.’
‘Look at this beauty,’ grinned Sykes, as he rejoined them, clutching an MP38 of his own.
‘Put it down, Sergeant,’ said Liddell.
‘Down, sir? Why?’ Sykes glanced at Tanner.
‘Mr Liddell doesn’t want us booty hunting,’ said Tanner. ‘He’s worried we’re not trained to use them either.’
Sykes laughed.
The subaltern had turned red. ‘I’ll not have any more insolence from either of you,’ he snapped. ‘Put the gun down, Sergeant, and let’s get on with what we’re supposed to be doing.’
‘Give me strength,’ muttered Tanner, then turned back in the direction of the track.
Chambers arrived soon after. There were more olive groves and vineyards, he reported, then a series of maize fields that led all the way to the Rethymno road. They had found tracks easily. There was also a downed aircraft up ahead, about five hundred yards away. Smoke was still billowing up from it.
‘That settles it, then,’ said Tanner. ‘Back in patrol formation, and let’s see if we can’t surprise a few Jerries. Bet they reckon they’re safe behind that smokescreen.’ He grinned. ‘Sergeant Sykes and I will head back with Lance Corporal Chambers, the rest follow as before. And keep your bloody eyes out and on me.’
Liddell now cleared his throat. ‘Hold on a minute, CSM,’ he said. ‘What exactly have you got in mind?’
Tanner took a deep breath. ‘Whatever Jerries landed round here have clearly moved on, sir, to the north. My guess is they’re mustering somewhere up ahead.’
‘A guess?’
‘Yes, sir. I’m not a Jerry, so I can’t say for certain, but they’re not here any more, are they? If we follow their tracks we might be able to find out a bit more. We’re reconnoitring, sir.’
Liddell bit his bottom lip. ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘But we’re now quite a long way from our lines and I don’t want any shooting, all right? Observation only.’
Without answering, Tanner turned and strode on ahead. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered, as Sykes and Chambers hurried beside him.
They found Bell, with Bonner and Sherston, lying at the edge of the vineyard. Tanner got down beside them. Directly ahead was the aircraft, still smoking furiously, the plumes swirling towards the coast. The low ridge continued, gently flattening out to the west of Heraklion. From where they lay, the walls of the town could not be seen, but beyond were more olive groves, which gave way to a series of maize fields. The crop was still young, but tall enough for a man to crawl through.
‘Have you spotted any movement, Tinker?’ Tanner asked Bell.
‘I’m not sure. I might have done. Maybe movement through the maize, but I couldn’t swear to it.’
‘Should have lent you these,’ said Tanner, pulling out his binoculars. He peered through them. The maize and the bushes and trees at the end of each field were too dense for him to see anything; perspective seemed to condense through the lenses. But beyond, perhaps as much as three-quarters of a mile away, he could now see men moving through the groves and around a small cluster of buildings. Then, suddenly, movement caught his eye, movement that was closer, somewhere before the buildings. Quickly he adjusted the focus. Yes, there they were, now in his line of vision, quite clear: a column of men crossing a track between the fields – not crouching, but openly walking, no more than three hundred yards ahead, the smoke of the aircraft their shield.
Tanner smiled. ‘Will you have a dekko at that! Can you see what I see, boys?’
