Blood of Honour

Tanner crouched beside the dead man, closed his staring eyes, then rifled for magazines in his pockets. ‘Probably been unconscious,’ whispered Tanner to Sykes. ‘Imagine waking up, in pain, and it’s dark, and then a sodding great Cretan comes along and shoves a knife into you. Jesus. Who’d be a paratrooper?’

A few shots rang out nearby, the enemy alerted by the alarmed cries of their comrade.

They waited a few moments, then moved on, reaching the ruined house. Sykes worked quickly, putting a small length of instantaneous fuse into a block of TNT and attaching the other end to the fuse adaptor at the end of the switch. He then tied the block of explosive to an old hinge at the bottom of the doorway, using safety fuse as wire. Another length was tied through the eye of the pin on the pull switch, which he then ran across to the other side of the doorway, where he found an old nail to tie it to. Checking the pin would release easily and that the length of fuse was taut, he hurried round the other side of the building to the well. This time he hid the explosive behind a large stone, which he placed at the base of the wall around the well, then ran the fuse back to the house, through the grass just a few inches off the ground. Only around two pounds of pressure were needed – easily created by someone getting their foot caught in the trip wire. The pin would be pulled out from the switch, which in turn released a spring that had been holding the firing pin in place. This knocked forward a striker rod, which caused the end of the fuse to spark and, with it, the TNT to explode.

They scurried on to the old store house, and set another booby trap. Alopex was delighted. ‘We could do with a man like you,’ he said, clutching Sykes’s shoulder. ‘We shall enjoy watching these blow up.’ He translated for his comrades, who chuckled in agreement.

‘We need to get back to the others,’ muttered Tanner, in a low whisper.

‘And we need to kill a few more Germans,’ said Alopex, ‘then get back to the mountains.’ He looked at Tanner and Sykes. ‘But if you steal any more of my supplies, I’ll know where to find you. I like your little friend here,’ he said, ‘but not that much.’ He pinched Sykes’s cheek and left them.

‘That man,’ muttered Tanner, as they scampered back in a wide arc towards the others. ‘I can’t bloody shake him off.’

‘A useful bloke to have on our side, though. You’ve got to admit he’s a bloody good fighter. Damn useful local knowledge, too.’

‘That’s as may be, Stan, but he bloody gets on my nerves. I swear that’s the last time I’m going to let someone punch me in the guts and not give them a kicking in return.’

To the south, a man screamed. Alopex, thought Tanner. Sykes was right – he was an effective and utterly ruthless fighter. No wonder Pendlebury had sought to help men like him and Satanas. If the Germans did seize the island, they would certainly have a difficult time so long as men like them were alive. It hardly made him feel better, though. Alopex had taunted them about the British leaving the island, and it had struck a nerve. A few days before he would have thought an evacuation impossible, but he sensed the balance was shifting. An ammunition shortage already! Good God, he wished they’d used up every last round three days earlier – if they had, there would not be any Germans left on this part of the island. Yet now every day the German situation was improving while theirs was slowly but surely getting worse. If something was not done about it soon, the time would come when the scales tipped against them for good. And then they would be falling back yet again, dependent on the navy to extricate them from the latest debacle. Jesus, he thought, please don’t let it be so.

The pickets had seen nothing.

‘Where’ve you been, sir?’ asked Hepworth.

‘Never you mind, Hep. Now move back out of the way. Sergeant Sykes needs a bit of space.’

‘Why, sir, what’s going on?’ He watched Sykes. ‘Oh, I get it. Where d’you find them, sir?’

‘All these questions, Hep. Let’s just say we discovered a secret source, all right?’

They moved on to the well, calling ‘yorker’ in loud whispers, and then, once Sykes had set another booby trap, they carefully made their way over to the stone wall where the remainder of Hepworth’s section were still keeping watch.

‘See anything?’ Tanner asked.

‘We heard something, sir,’ said Cooper. ‘Jerries screaming. Was that you, sir?’

‘No. Our Cretan allies,’ said Tanner. He looked at his watch. ‘That’ll do. Come on, let’s head back.’

As they gave out the password and crossed back to their positions at the edge of the town, Lieutenant Liddell was there to meet them.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘We didn’t hear anything. All quiet out there?’

‘Very quiet, sir,’ said Hepworth.

But at that moment one of the booby traps exploded, a shocking, jarring blast that flashed briefly and lit the horizon with a bright orange glow. Liddell flinched.

‘God almighty!’ he exclaimed. ‘What was that?’

‘A nasty shock for some Jerry, I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Tanner, calmly lighting a cigarette. The others laughed. ‘Right, then, boys, go and get some kip.’ He paused and turned to Liddell. ‘It’s your sergeant, sir. Very handy with explosives, he is.’ He chuckled, then headed on in the direction of Company Headquarters.

Sunday, 25 May, a little after 9 a.m. Tanner sat on his rocky outcrop, peering through his German binoculars. It was another glorious early summer’s day, the sky clear blue save for a few white puffs hovering over the mountains. Little seemed to be stirring ahead – and why would it? Those paratroopers would be below the ridgeline, stuck under the escarpment that Alopex had mentioned. No, he doubted they would see much movement that day. A few parachutes were still caught up in the groves, but otherwise there was little sign that there had been such a large air drop the day before.

He had heard only three explosions during the night, which left another three – those closest to their own positions – still untouched. Ah, well, he thought. There was always another night, and he felt little concern that any locals might disturb them in the meantime – he’d not seen a single person tending the land ahead of them since the invasion had begun.

But now he heard a faint rumble from the north, and quickly swivelled round to scan the sky. The noise was rapidly increasing and then he spotted them – more than twenty enemy aircraft approaching. The sound of aero- engines had risen to a thunderous roar as they flew almost past the town. The ack-ack had once again begun pounding, the heavy guns booming dully, black puffs of smoke bursting out over the sky, when the lead plane flipped over and began its dive. Even before the sirens began wailing, Tanner recognized them as Stukas. One after another they were screaming directly towards the town.

Tanner hurriedly put on his tin helmet as bombs began detonating. Light ack-ack guns were pumping shells towards them but the first dozen planes completed their dives successfully. Huge rolling clouds of dust and smoke were lazily rising into the air, shrouding the town. The noise was deafening but above the whine of aircraft, the thunder of the guns and the blast of exploding bombs came the crash of falling masonry as buildings crumpled.

Having dropped their loads, the Stukas disappeared but almost immediately another wave of bombers arrived, this time Junkers 88s, more than two dozen, racing in along the coast from the west and dropping a seemingly endless number of bombs. Heraklion had completely disappeared under the pall of smoke and dust. Tanner watched mesmerized, the shock of exploding bombs shaking the ground on which he sat. Shells continued to be pumped into the air, but the gunners were now firing blind. Suddenly, a Junkers emerged, an engine alight. The men cheered as it spluttered overhead, so low the oil streaks could be seen across its underside, the black crosses clear and distinct. The great machine banked and headed north again, hidden once more by the dust and smoke.

Tanner guessed it must have crashed into the sea, but then found himself ducking as he heard the whistle of a falling bomb nearby, which exploded on some houses a hundred yards to the west. Once again, the ground seemed to tremble, and now the dust pall was rolling over their positions too. Taking his water bottle, he wetted his handkerchief and placed it over his mouth, then clambered down as another set of bombs whistled towards them. This time they were closer and Tanner flung himself onto the ground as a building just yards from Company HQ received a direct hit. With an ear-splitting crash, the building collapsed, a cascading mass of tile, stone and wood. Shards were blasted into the air and Tanner felt them raining down on him, clattering against his helmet. Men were coughing and spluttering and shouting curses. His throat felt raw despite the wet handkerchief.

And then the bombers were gone. Spectral figures stood up, emerging through the haze, coughing, staggering, numbed by the noise and weight of the attack. Tanner drank from his bottle, the already warm water as soothing as ice. Captain Peploe appeared from the direction of Company Headquarters, his face, uniform and hair