Blood of Honour

Balthasar smiled. ‘Because, Reibert, he was breaking out of Heraklion. We know he’s British – he was muttering in English and, of course, he looks no more Greek than you or I. In any case, I recognize him. He was fighting in Heraklion last night, waving a swordstick, leading a mixed group of Greek, British and Cretan bandits. And, as you can see, he is wearing Cretan costume. Why? Because he was on his way to meet the Cretan bandits in the mountains behind us.’

‘Is he an enemy agent, then?’ asked Reibert.

‘Of some sort, yes. With lots of important intelligence for us, which he is going to tell us when he is conscious again. When will that be?’

Reibert shrugged. ‘The morphine will wear off in an hour or so, but he is weak. And it is dependent on him not getting an infection.’

Balthasar thought a moment. The problem was time. They still had no real idea how many enemy troops were in and around Heraklion, or what supplies they had. Were he the British commander, he would attack that night – but he knew the Tommies tended to be cautious. On the other hand, there had been nothing cautious about this man’s break-out. It suggested there was some urgency, that perhaps they were planning a combined attack that night.

He needed to confer with Schulz – he had not seen the major since the Englishman’s capture. Perhaps Schulz had news too, from Oberst Brauer and the men dropped around the airfield. It had been quiet from over there since the morning drop – occasional small-arms fire, but that had been about it. Clearly, there had been neither an attack nor a counter-attack. Balthasar banged a fist against the doorway. They were largely cut off, isolated and almost entirely starved of information. That was why it was so important to get this man to talk.

11

No one had said a word as the remaining five Rangers made their way back to the town. Only when they had passed through the Canea Gate and on beneath the walls to the bastion did Tanner turn to the others. ‘Get a drink and some tiffin, and clean your weapons,’ he snapped.

‘Shouldn’t you get your wound seen to, sir?’ suggested Sykes.

‘No, I bloody shouldn’t. Now get going – all of you.’ He leaned against the wall and took a long draught from his water bottle. He gasped and then grimaced with pain.

‘I’m going to have you court-martialled, Tanner,’ hissed Liddell.

‘Oh, really?’

‘You directly disobeyed my orders and then – I still cannot believe you did this – you had the nerve to knock me unconscious. Striking an officer, Tanner, that’s very bad. Very bad indeed.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Tanner. ‘I saved your life. I could have left you there. Left you for Jerry. If you hadn’t stopped yapping you’d have got us all killed, rather than just Atkins and Captain Pendlebury.’

Liddell’s face reddened. Tanner saw the jaw muscles clench with anger. ‘You’re forgetting yourself, Tanner. And forgetting what I told you earlier.’

‘I’m not forgetting anything,’ snarled Tanner.

‘Do you want me to tell the men the truth about you?’

‘And what’s that? What is the truth, Mr Liddell? Why don’t you tell me what you know?’

Liddell glared at him. ‘You killed that lad. The one who died. Cutler – George Cutler.’

‘Oh, did I really?’ Tanner made to wipe his brow and saw Liddell flinch. ‘You don’t know. You don’t know anything. You can tell the men whatever you bloody well like.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘How could such a fine man as David Liddell have been your father?’

‘How dare you speak to me like that?’

‘Look, you stupid bastard, go and report me to Captain Peploe. Go on, run off and bleat. And then I’ll tell him how you wrecked the whole mission. I’m beginning to think Captain Pendlebury would have got through on his own if we hadn’t made such a bloody racket. And he still would have most likely got through if you hadn’t gone and lost your nerve and fired that rifle. My rifle. No shooting, I said. What the hell did you let off that shot for?’

Liddell said nothing.

‘Well?’ said Tanner again. ‘Why did you?’

‘I didn’t mean to!’ spluttered Liddell. ‘I had the bolt cocked and my finger ready on the trigger. It just went off.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Tanner, clutching his hair, ‘give me strength. Get away from me. Say what you want to Captain Peploe, but bloody well keep away from me.’

He staggered across the street to the house they had taken over from the Greeks as Company Headquarters, Liddell following him.

‘Wait,’ said Liddell.

‘I’ve told you – keep away,’ growled Tanner. Captain Peploe was not there, so he pushed past Liddell and went back to the bastion. He felt hot and weak and his side hurt, but as he went through the arched wooden doorway of the left-hand tunnel, he stepped instantly into a world that was refreshingly dark, cool and musty. The Pantokratoros Bastion was bisected by two dark tunnels that ran through its length, although only the left-hand one was being used now. At the entrance between the tunnels was an old guardroom, with one solitary oval window looking back down Dedikaki. B Company had made this their mess room, a place to escape the smell and the heat.

Sykes was in the guardroom, chatting with Staff Sergeant Woodman.

‘All right, sir?’ asked Sykes.

‘Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you, Stan,’ he said.

‘’S all right, sir.’

‘Have you seen Captain Peploe?’

‘He’s with the colonel,’ said Woodman.

Tanner nodded and left them, heading back out into the bright sunshine. He took another glug of water, then set off down Plastira, the road that ran all the way round beneath the walls to Jesus Bastion.

The bodies from the fighting the previous night had now all been removed, but patches of dried blood could still be seen on the ground. He passed a blackened building, the site of bitter fighting. Jesus, was it really only yesterday? It felt a lifetime ago. The distance to Battalion HQ was not far – less than a mile – but even though he had kept in the shade of the walls, he felt light-headed by the time he reached the bastion. Captain Peploe was upstairs with Colonel Vigar, he was told, and by the time he reached the top of the stairs, he had to hold out an arm and lean against the wall in an effort to regain his composure. He paused a moment, then stumbled to the colonel’s office and knocked at the open door.

‘Good God, Tanner!’ exclaimed the colonel, as Tanner weakly saluted.

‘Jack, are you all right?’ Peploe stood up and got him a chair. ‘Here, sit down.’

Tanner gratefully did as he was bidden. Peploe offered him his silver hip flask. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. Brandy. The fluid scorched his mouth and throat but the kick from the alcohol revived him. And now the colonel was offering him a cigarette. Tanner smiled. ‘Why, thank you, sir. I need to go on patrols like this more often.’

‘So what happened?’ asked Peploe, as Tanner exhaled a large swirling cloud of cigarette smoke. He told them – no details, but the bare facts.

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Peploe, when he had finished. ‘And Atkins, too. I’m sorry, I always knew it was a bad mission.’

‘Yes,’ muttered Colonel Vigar. ‘Damned bad show.’

‘He would have made it – Captain Pendlebury,’ Tanner said. ‘I could see him. He was clear of the river, but then a rifle went off and it was bloody mayhem.’

‘Who fired the shot?’ asked Peploe.

‘God knows,’ Tanner lied. ‘I’d been seeing to some pickets when it went off. I’m sorry, though, sir. Two good men. I know Captain Pendlebury was an important man here. And I’m also sorry you won’t now get your guided