and black of the swastika.
Balthasar walked up the steps to the entrance. Guards were standing sentinel outside, and clicked impressively in salute as he went past them and into the hallway. Hauptmann von der Schulenberg was also waiting there, and rose as Balthasar entered. ‘Kurt,’ he said, ‘our colonel has chosen well, has he not?’
Balthasar smiled. ‘But of course. And even the stench is not so bad.’
A staff officer appeared and ushered them up the staircase to the first floor where, in a large balconied room, Oberst Brauer already sat behind a large marble desk. Before it, sitting on an elegant Italianate chair, was Major Schulz.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Brauer, ‘let me get you a drink. Brandy?’
‘Thank you, Herr Oberst,’ said Balthasar. Like von der Schulenberg, he stood to attention.
Brauer waved a hand at them, in which he held a cigarette in a holder. ‘Relax, and, please, help yourselves to cigars. They’re on the desk. I prefer my own cigarettes but I do so enjoy the smell of cigar smoke.’
They thanked him again and did as they were bidden. Balthasar clipped the end of his with his gravity knife and lit von der Schulenberg’s, then his own. Puffs of smoke wafted into the air.
‘See? A lot better than rotting corpses and open sewers, is it not?’ grinned Brauer, passing them both glass balloons of brandy. He raised his own. ‘To victory, gentlemen!’ The colonel was in his late forties, short but immaculate, even after nine long days of intense combat. Somehow, since reaching the Megaron, he had washed, shaved and had his uniform pressed. His hair was close-cropped and silvery, his face lined but smooth, while his eyes were pale grey and hawkish. He was something of a legendary figure within the Fallschirmjager – a veteran of the last war, the first German to make a parachute jump, and the first and only commander of the 1st Division.
‘This place, Herr Oberst,’ said Balthasar, ‘it is incredible. And amid all this destruction too.’
‘I know. It was built only a few years ago by some wealthy citrus traders, but they did a good job. For the past few years it has been the heart of the town. Our pilots must have known we would want it, for they have very generously dropped their bombs all around but not here.’ He wandered over to one of the large windows. ‘And what views, too. You see our flag flying proudly over the fortress?’
‘And over this building too, Herr Oberst,’ said Balthasar.
‘It’s important to do these things straight away. To stamp a mark immediately. That is why I have set up my headquarters here, in the most important building in the town. We have to show the Cretans that we are now in charge – not their own government or king and not the British. Crete is now German.’ He sipped his brandy, then turned back to them. ‘It has been a hard time, these past nine days. The resistance from the local population has been surprising and shocking, but there can be no more attacks on our men. I remind you of the Ten Commandments of the Fallschirmjager.’
‘Number nine, Herr Oberst,’ said Balthasar. ‘Against a regular enemy, fight with chivalry, but give no quarter to guerrillas.’
Brauer smiled. ‘Yes, Oberleutnant. Exactly. We give no quarter to guerrillas. And yet they have already given us quite a headache and no doubt will continue to do so if we do not crush them immediately. Earlier today I spoke to General Student, who has already spoken to the
‘This will be wonderful news for Oberleutnant Balthasar, Herr Oberst,’ said Schulz. ‘He is particularly anxious, I know, to avenge what happened to a number of men in his company.’
Brauer raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘There were many atrocities and mutilations, Herr Oberst, but three of my men were beheaded – with knives.’
‘I feel your outrage, Oberleutnant, believe me I do. General Student will shortly be issuing orders to every paratrooper on the island, but he is fully aware that certain members of the civilian population have been actively involved as
‘What does that imply exactly, Herr Oberst?’ asked Balthasar.
‘It means that we will shoot anyone known to have committed such crimes, and burn entire villages where necessary. The people need to know that if they carry out such atrocities – or, indeed, even support such actions – we will respond with the utmost severity.’ He sipped his brandy. ‘Personally, I dislike such actions. We are soldiers, not policemen. However, it’s clear that we must show we will not stand for such behaviour. General Student,’ he added, ‘told me today that he wishes those units who have suffered the worst such atrocities to be the ones to undertake reprisals and punitive operations.’ He sat down at his desk. ‘And that means you, gentlemen.’
‘We know
‘We should question some of the townspeople and the Greek soldiers who fought near the Canea Gate,’ said Balthasar. ‘We need names. The men who were with Pendlebury.’
‘Pendlebury?’ said Brauer.
‘Yes, Herr Oberst,’ said Balthasar. ‘A British agent we captured who had been working with the Cretans. He was also implicated in the beheading of my men.’
‘And where is Pendlebury now?’
‘We had him shot. He deserved worse.’
Brauer took out a gold case and fitted another cigarette into his holder. ‘More reinforcements are due in tomorrow and shortly some Gebirgsjager troops will be joining us here in Heraklion. I want you to crush these guerrillas, gentlemen. Use whatever means you see fit. You will have my support in this.’
The three men, recognizing this was the signal for them to leave, finished their drinks and, their cigars still between their fingers, saluted and turned to leave.
‘Gentlemen?’ said Brauer. ‘Find the leaders. Cut off the head, as you well know, and the body cannot function.’
It was late in the afternoon that they came across the wrecked plane. Since leaving Limenas, they had headed south-west, away from the coast and into the vast, wide stretch between the Dikti range in the east and the Ida Mountains to the west, a part of the island criss-crossed with valleys, narrow rivers and low ridges, most, it seemed, covered with endless olive groves, dense in places, young in others. They had passed few villages in this corner of the island, just the occasional isolated house and farmstead. They had seen few people as they tramped along the myriad dusty tracks that wove through the soft, undulating hills and valleys. Central Crete had been quiet; there had been little to suggest the calamity that had just befallen the island.
But as they had dropped down towards a wooded river valley they had smelt the familiar stench of decomposing flesh. While the Cretans had remained with the cart, Tanner and Sykes had pushed on ahead and there, across the river among the trees, they had seen the Junkers. The wings had been ripped off and lay jaggedly torn a short distance behind, but when they picked their way towards the cockpit, they saw that a row of bullets had raked the metal and windscreen. The propeller at the front had shattered and, inside, the decomposing body of the pilot was still strapped into his seat, his face a deep purple where it had not already been eaten to the bone. As they neared, a thick swarm of flies rose out through the shattered perspex making both men jump.
‘Argh, that’s bloody disgustin’!’ said Sykes, shielding his eyes.
The wreck showed no sign of having caught fire, and they went to the open door along the corrugated fuselage, Tanner poking his head through cautiously, fearing what he might find. But there were no other bodies – the crew had clearly jumped free in time. There were, though, half a dozen canisters.
He turned back to Sykes, grinning. ‘It’s bloody Father Christmas up there in the cockpit. Have a look at this.’ He jumped up and moved down the fuselage.
‘Beautiful,’ said Sykes. ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’
They had already begun dragging out the canisters when the rest of the men joined them, and soon they had all six clear of the wreckage and back by the track where the cart and mule now stood. One of the boxes was full of rations and medical supplies and Tanner was relieved to get his hands on some more cigarettes; his supplies were not only very low but still damp with seawater. But the others were all filled with arms. In one there were two MG34s and a number of boxes of ammunition. In two others there were rifles. The last contained a dozen MP40s
