Balthasar was conscious of birds singing and it struck him that the gentleness and beauty of the light was at odds with the violence of the battle. He peered now at the town walls. They had seen better days. Although some ten metres high, they had crumbled in parts and he could see trees and bushes sprouting between the slabs of stone. Beneath, buildings stretched away from the walls where the town had begun to sprawl.
He had read up on the island, and knew that it was some centuries since the Venetians had built those bastions and that, in the end, they had not been able to keep out the Turks. The town had been besieged for more than twenty years – twenty years in which the walls had taken a battering. Those invaders had finally gone more than forty years ago, at the end of the nineteenth century, but little money had come Crete’s way since. It was a poor place, he knew, and now, as he studied the tired town, he realized the Cretans must have plundered the walls for stone for the houses beyond. Those battlements had looked so formidable as he drifted down, but now he realized they were not so impregnable after all.
Ahead, he could see what looked like a main bastion and gateway into the town, but to the right the walls were crumbling. There were trees aplenty there, reaching out like claws from the stonework, and houses below too. He swept with his binoculars again. There was another bastion by the sea, but between it and the water’s edge there was a gap.
‘Well?’ said Schulz. ‘Your thoughts, gentlemen.’
‘We should split into two forces,’ said Balthasar. ‘One force should attack the gap in the wall by the edge of the sea, the other towards the main gate ahead of us. In each case, a diversion is needed while the storm troops attack the weak point. There,’ he said, pointing to the crumbled bastions to the right of the main bastion. ‘We don’t need medieval scaling ladders to break through there. We just need enough men to make it seem as though they’re making a head-on attack to draw away the enemy forces. The same by the sea.’
‘Yes,’ said Schulz, ‘I think you’re right. Hauptmann?’
‘I agree,’ said von der Schulenberg. ‘Of course, we could do with more ammunition, but we need to be bold.’ He turned to Balthasar. ‘A number of canisters came down west of here and they have been mostly successfully collected. We’re short of medical supplies and food, but we do have some ammunition.’
‘There will be food in the town,’ said Balthasar, his mood rapidly improving.
Schulz eyed him for a moment, then chuckled. ‘You know what, Oberleutnant? Just the thought of it makes me feel better. Hauptmann, you will lead the attack by the sea. Take what’s left of your company and those from 3 Company, and Balthasar and I will carry out the attack here.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Nineteen zero five. We move out in forty minutes.’
‘
Schulz frowned, his face set. ‘We’ll storm those sons of whores,’ he growled, ‘and then they’ll wish they’d shown our comrades a little more respect.’
Second Lieutenant Guy Liddell had said very little as they had woven their way back towards their lines, but inside he was fuming. Clearly, Tanner’s little ruse had paid off spectacularly, yet he sensed it might well not have done. It had been a foolhardy plan, conceived and acted upon without much pause for consideration. Furthermore, the CSM had not consulted him, even though he was the officer in charge. Worse, the man had directly disobeyed his order not to open fire. He had the distinct impression Tanner had concocted the whole thing to spite him as much as anything – revenge, he supposed, for the events of the previous afternoon.
When they finally reached their positions south of the Jesus Bastion, the euphoria of the men was plain to see. Excited chatter, claps on the back, wide-eyed relief at having escaped the German return fire unscathed.
‘Bloody hell, sir,’ McAllister said to Tanner, ‘it was some explosion. We could see it from where we were!’
Liddell had gritted his teeth and smiled along with them, but as soon as he could, he went over to Tanner and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Tanner, a word,’ he had said, steering the CSM away a short distance.
‘A good patrol, sir,’ said Tanner.
‘Tanner, I ordered you not to open fire.’
‘I know, sir,’ Tanner said quietly, ‘but the opportunity was suddenly before us. There wasn’t time to consult you.’
‘You completely disobeyed me,’ Liddell hissed. ‘You could have got my men killed.’
Tanner smiled. ‘But I didn’t, sir. There’s no one with so much as a scratch. The only dead ones are Jerries, plus we’ve got a lot of their kit.’
‘I don’t like having my authority undermined, Tanner. Regardless of your little success, I shall be reporting you to the captain.’
Tanner stared at him, those pale blue eyes boring into him. ‘What are you trying to prove, sir?’
Liddell felt himself bristle. ‘I’m not trying to prove anything. I just want you to respect the authority of an officer.’
Tanner smiled. ‘Respect, eh?’ And then, as he had already done once before that evening, he turned away and walked back towards the men.
Liddell watched him, unsure what to say or how to respond. He felt belittled, foolish, as though somehow he was in the wrong, not the CSM. It was, he knew, unfortunate that he should have met Tanner again after all these years in such disagreeable circumstances, but it had not been his fault; he had not been the one street-brawling with the locals. He could see that Tanner had been humiliated but he should have thought of that before fighting that Cretan thug. Nor was he to know that Jack Scard had joined the Yorkshire Rangers back then. Now they were stuck with each other, but that did not mean the past could simply be ignored. His father had once been Tanner’s father’s employer. They were of different classes. Bill Scard had shown his father respect, so now Tanner would damn well show him some.
Looking up, he saw Captain Peploe approaching him. He was wearing a wool sweater over his shirt, his hands plunged deep into his pockets.
‘Good to see you, Mr Liddell,’ said Peploe. ‘A successful patrol?’
‘Yes, I think so, sir,’ said Liddell.
‘Get on all right with Tanner?’
‘Apart from the blatant disobeying of orders, yes.’
Peploe smiled and said, ‘Let’s just move away a bit.’ He led him away from the men, and down the Knossos road a short distance. The skies were at last clear and an uneasy quiet had descended; no more aircraft droned overhead, the guns were no longer booming. Only small-arms fire disturbed the evening stillness.
‘You’d better explain,’ said Peploe.
Liddell did so, then said, ‘In my judgement, it was a reckless decision. I admit it was successful, but it could have very easily backfired. We had no idea how many there were of them or how strongly they were armed, and I had already specifically told him not to open fire.’
Peploe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘When you say, “we”, are you sure Tanner had not made any kind of recce first?’
‘I don’t see how he could have done, sir. One minute we were moving through a maize field, the next he and the others were off. He knew I wanted to talk to him and deliberately rushed on ahead before I could reach him.’
Liddell saw Peploe struggling to suppress a smile and felt his cheeks redden.
‘All right, Lieutenant.’ Peploe looked up towards the mountains, then back at Liddell. ‘It’s partly my fault. I should have been a bit clearer beforehand. Tanner was leading, and I would always trust him to use his judgement. After all, he has seen more action than any of us. My reason for sending you at all was because they were men from your platoon and I thought the experience would be good for you. You also have to remember that we’re fighting a war, and people do get wounded and killed. If we tried to avoid risk, we’d never get anywhere. Finally, it’s good sense to take whatever weapons you can find. First, the enemy can’t use them, and second, we can.’
‘Sir, I—’
Peploe cut him off. ‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way. Tanner should not have disobeyed your orders, but you have to understand that having pips on your shoulders doesn’t mean you’re expected to know everything. What did you do before the war, Guy? Do you mind if I call you “Guy”?’
‘No, sir, of course not. I was a farmer, sir.’
‘Funny – so was I. So you didn’t have to join up?’
‘No.’
