The Heights of Zervos

by Colin Forbes

  Schnell was now having to conduct an awkward manoeuvre to evade a single mine floating dead ahead. He had to steer the vessel round the mine and then alter course afresh to bring the ship up against the side of the jetty. Burckhardt could see that the glowing lamp was a lantern fixed to the top of a low mast and underneath it a small group of figures was huddled. He sent several men off the bridge, ordered the rest to keep in the shadows and joined them. This last mine was causing further delay and he felt the impatience surging up: he wanted to be off this damned Greek ferry, to get ashore and get on with it. And it was not only the timetable which made him curse that so inconveniently placed mine - that object so thoughtfully dropped by bis allies was providing more time for the hidden demolition charge to detonate. He prayed to God that it wouldn't happen at the last moment, but a streak of pessimism in bis nature made him fear the worst. In war, the chance happenings, the coincidences, were always bad ones. He had learned that in Finland where he had experienced the Winter War as assistant to the German military attaché in Helsinki when the Finns had fought the Russians to a ferocious standstill, in Norway where he had commanded ... He spoke quickly in Greek as Nopagos moved to the starboard window. 'Stay by the wheel!'

  'If they see me they will be reassured.' Nopagos still stood by the window as he looked over his shoulder. His face was despondent and he looked as though he could hardly stand up: tnis was probably the last voyage of the Hydra and he was bringing home the most terrible cargo he had ever carried. 'I don't want any harm to come to them - if they start to run away...'

  'My men have orders not to shoot.' Burckhardt hesitated. The fight had gone out of the captain and it gave a greater appearance of normality if he could be seen clearly on the bridge. 'You can stay there,' he said, 'but you are not to call out to them.'

  Dawn was beginning to spread over the peninsula as Schnell edged his way round the solitary mine, and the bleak light showed a landscape still in the grip of winter. The olive trees on the scrub-covered hills were naked silhouettes and along the jetty a coating of frost glittered with the colour of creme de menthe over stones green with age. The little group under the lamp which glowed eerily in the half-light stood hunched up with their hands in their pockets and one man was stamping his feet on the stones. An appearance of absolute normality. Another ferry trip ending its voyage quietly as a matter of seagoing routine. Which was very satisfactory, Burckhardt was thinking. Near the end of the jetty, a simple mole which projected straight out into the gulf, the beach was visible, a beach of rocks and stones. And behind the beach a high sea-wall stretched away into the distance. The intelligence people had warned him about that unscalable sea-wall - had emphasized that the only entrance to the village was a gap in the wall at the end of the jetty where a causeway linked the mole with the road into Katyra. Burckhardt was looking beyond the wall now to the short line of two-storeyed houses which were shuttered and still like abandoned villas. The whole place had the look of a resort which is only open during the summer months. It was all going according to plan. They would land without any fuss, occupy the village, set up the road-block to the north, and within an hour the main body of the troops would be moving south into the heart of the peninsula. An officer Prentice had not seen before came on to the bridge to report and the colonel motioned him back into the shadows.

  'Major Eberhay reports everything ready for disembarkation, sir.'

  'Good. The wireless set is being guarded by two men, I take it, Brandt?'

  'Yes, sir. The major saw to it himself.'

  'Tell him those civilians on the jetty are not to be brought on board because of the demolition charge. He can keep them on the beach and they can be escorted back into the village later.'

  As Brandt left the bridge Burckhardt thought about the wireless set. Until the sabotaged set was repaired it was their only means of communication with GHQ to confirm that the reinforcements could be flown in. It was, in fact, one of the most vital pieces of equipment in the expedition. Without that he would be on his own and there could be the most appalling muddle when they arrived at the plateau. The vessel had almost circumnavigated the pestilential mine and was creeping in towards the jetty where the little group had shifted position. Prentice had moved closer to the window and Burckhardt warned a guard that he mustn't get any closer. When he looked to starboard again the jetty was almost under the ship's hull.

  The lower slopes of the hills were still in darkness as the gangway clattered onto the jetty. Major Eberhay was the first man ashore and a moment later Nopagos joined him, followed by a dozen Alpenkorps soldiers. These troops were unarmed, their collars nearly buttoned to the neck, and one man carried a plaque struck to commemorate the commencement of collaboration between Greek and German peoples. Only the space for the date was left blank. Drawn up in files of threes, they marched steadily along the jetty top in the direction of the causeway which led to Katyra. The plaque was for presentation to the mayor of Katyra. Outwardly, for the first few minutes, the disembarkation had the appearance of an arranged visit as the Alpenkorps paraded away into the distance. Only a band was absent to mark the occasion.*

  * The same technique was practised in Norway where the first unit of invading Germans ashore at Oslo was a brass band which played and marched through the capital to simulate a peaceful visit

  'No resistance, please! We are overwhelmed!' It was Nopagos who delivered the urgent message to the group of four men who stood stunned under the lamp as the troops passed them. It was not quite the message which Burckhardt had instructed him to deliver but it served the same effect. One man, larger and burlier than the others, took a step backwards as though to move away, but he was restrained by the leading soldier in the next section of troops leaving the ship. The German put a firm hand on the civilian's arm and ushered him back to the group which stared at the ferry as though hardly able to believe their eyes. The third file of men pouring off the vessel were heavily armed, their rucksacks on their backs, their rifles looped over their shoulders, and short bayonets sheathed in leather scabbards by their sides.

  From the bridge Burckhardt watched the landing operation with approval and relief. It was all going according to plan. The leading section had already disappeared through the gap in the sea-wall and within minutes would reach their first objective - the mayor's house. It was light enough now to see the Greek flag fluttering in a breeze from a tower behind the wall. He checked his watch again as the file of armed troops began to cross the causeway. Half-way along the jetty the group of four Greeks was being hustled towards the beach while more troops marched past them. Yes, everything was going according to plan. A moment later the firing started.

  The firing, which commenced immediately the Greek civilians were clear of the jetty, came at the worst possible moment for Burckhardt. The entire mole from gangway to causeway was dense with disembarking troops and the ski sections were just filing off the ship. It was one of these men, encumbered with the skis over his back, who fell as the first shot rang out. Instantly, what had been an orderly disembarkation became a scene of chaos as the falling soldier crashed into his comrades and caused several to stumble. A second shot rang out and a second man on the jetty fell close to the first casualty. There was a danger of an imminent pile-up of men as the mole seethed with field-grey figures. Burckhardt swore and leaned over the bridge to look down at the open deck below where Hahnemann was issuing quick instructions, shouting to the men to clear the jetty and move inland. A third shot was fired and four men close together half-way along the jetty paused, then began to run towards the causeway, but as they ran one of their number sprawled lifelessly on the jetty floor. Burckhardt left the bridge and made for the open deck. At the top of the staircase Dietrich was staring across the peninsula and as Burckhardt ran past him he noted a trivial detail: for the first time, so far as he could remember, the Abwehr man was no longer smoking a cigar. He was running down the staircase when he heard a fusillade of shots - the Alpenkorps were returning the fire, al
though what the God they thought they were shooting at Burckhardt had no idea. From his commanding position on the bridge he had been quite unable to locate the source of the attack.

  At the bottom of the steps he noted a less trivial detail - the battalion wireless, the last set still in serviceable condition, was stowed against the wall with the flap opened back. An Alpenkorps soldier stood close by guarding the precious equipment. As soon as they had taken Katyra Burckhardt had to send the vital signal, Phase One completed. Despite the air of total confusion which now pervaded the vessel where men crouched low behind the rails or ran down the gangway urged on by Hahnemann, the colonel was still thinking clearly and a disturbing idea had entered his mind. Three shots, three casualties. That was the work of a marksman. It was quickly apparent that Hahnemann was disembarking the troops with all speed so Burckhardt, still concerned with his simple calculation, went swiftly back to the bridge where he could see what was happening. He arrived there in time to see more men hurrying along the jetty too close together as the firing continued. A man near the edge stopped as though struck by an invisible blow, tried to stagger forward a few steps, then plunged over the edge. He hit the water with a splash and when the body surfaced it floated motionlessly.

  The fusillade continued for several minutes while the Alpenkorps constantly disembarked and ran the gauntlet of the exposed jetty. During the firing Burckhardt ordered the two remaining guards on the bridge to take Prentice and Ford below ready for going ashore. Schnell had left earlier so now he was alone on the bridge as the fusillade ceased suddenly.

  He waited, turning his eyes now to the lower hill slopes still in the fading shadow of night. Hahnemann had carried out his order to cease fire abruptly and then hold fire for five minutes. Earlier, the colonel had assumed that those shots were coming from behind one of the shuttered windows, but so far he had seen nothing to confirm this. Half-a-dozen men were risking the jetty run again, their bodies crouched low as they ran past the huddled shapes lying on the stones. A single shot split the silence only broken by the thud of nailed boots on paved stone. One man fell. The others ran on, disappearing through the gap in the wall. On the bridge Burckhardt twisted his mouth grimly. He had seen it this time - the muzzle-flash in the hills to the south of the village. The marksman was indeed firing long-distance, and now he felt sure it was the work of one man. He left the bridge and Hahnemann met him at the foot of the staircase with news of the disaster.

  'The second set is out of commission...'

  'What!' Burckhardt was thunderstruck. He felt the blood rush to his head and paused before going on. 'How did it happen?'

  'A bullet hit it - all the valves are smashed.'

  A soldier was crouched over the set and he kept his head lowered as though afraid to face the colonel. Bending close to him, Burckhardt spoke very quietly. 'You were supposed to be guarding it, Dorff.'

  'He could hardly have done anything,' Hahnemann interjected. 'He was by the rail firing off a few shots himself when it happened. He was never very far away from the set. It is just the most appalling bad luck, sir.'

  'Bad luck, Hahnemann?' The colonel straightened up and stared at him. 'We have had one set sabotaged earlier in the voyage. Someone planted a demolition charge inside the vessel. And someone, at the beginning, set free the British prisoners. Haven't you grasped it yet that some unknown person is making sure that bad luck does come our way?' He turned as Dietrich walked round a corner and stopped to look down at the wrecked set.

  'More?' he asked bluntly.

  'A bullet has smashed all the valves. The set is quite useless.' Burckhardt studied the Abwehr man for a moment. 'Herr Dietrich, I believe you possess a Luger. Would you mind showing it to me?'

  Without a word Dietrich extracted the pistol from his pocket and handed it to the colonel. While Burckhardt was examining the weapon he stood with his hands deep inside his pockets as he gazed along the jetty where the last troops were hurrying towards the village. It was almost daylight now and the buildings beyond the sea-wall showed up clearly in the pale sunshine. They had a decrepit, unpainted look and several tiles were missing from the shallow roofs which were a dull red colour. Once their walls had been brightly colour-washed but that had been a long time ago; now that the place could be seen properly in the dawn light it had shrunk from a shadowed village of some size to a tiny fishing hamlet of a few hundred people. Burckhardt had checked the gun, had found it fully loaded with seven rounds. He sniffed briefly at the barrel and then returned it. 'Thank you.' He looked at Hahnemann. 'We will go ashore. Tell Volber to bring the prisoners.'

  Straightening his tunic, Burckhardt led the way onto Greek soil. Because of the Hydra's list to port, the gangway was inclined at a steep angle, a detail he had overlooked, and he had to run down it onto the almost deserted jetty. Here again, he led the way, walking briskly but without undue haste, pausing to exchange a few words with two medical orderlies who were attending the casualties. One of them looked up and shook his head. Burckhardt resumed his even pace, knowing that men still aboard were watching him from the rails. Behind him came the Abwehr man, hands still inside his pockets, looking towards the south as he trailed the colonel, and behind him followed Prentice and Ford escorted by Volber and a private. At the end of the mole the colonel stopped and called down to Nopagos who was waiting with the other civilians on the beach. 'That Greek, Grapos, what other qualifications had he that you didn't tell me about?'

  'He speaks English.'

  Nopagos hadn't understood what the colonel was driving at and he saw the German stiffen. Burckhardt's reactions piled on top of one another. Was he being insolent? The question going through the colonel's head had been whether at some time Grapos might have undergone military service, perhaps before he contracted his limp. Grapos spoke English? As he walked on to the causeway Burckhardt tried to recall the sequence of events aboard the Hydra. Could Grapos have freed Prentice and Ford? He had been imprisoned in the hold at the time. Had he sabotaged both wireless sets? Was he still on board? Then who was that marksman in the hills... Firmly, he pushed the riddle out of his thoughts as he went through the gap in the wall where a sentry had been posted. He saluted as the man jumped to attention.

  Behind him Dietrich was taking his time about walking towards Katyra, dragging his feet until Volber and the prisoners caught up with him. He even stood quite still for a moment while he looked down at Nopagos, and when he continued along the causeway the prisoners and their escorts had passed and were a few paces in front of him. He appeared to be taking a great interest in the view to the south next, staring fixedly at the hills, and then he switched his attention to the sentry by the wall, noting the hand-grenade which hung from the soldier's belt. Finally, he looked back along the jetty to see if anyone else was close at hand. The gangplank was empty and there was no sign of more troops coming ashore. He turned round and called out.

  'Volber! I think you're wanted back at the ship.'

  The sergeant gestured to the prisoners to halt. They had just passed through the gap and beyond a dusty track wound out of sight past a stone building into the main part of Katyra. Burckhardt had almost reached the bend and Dietrich's words had not been spoken loudly enough to reach him. The sentry looked puzzled and stared at the Hydra where a tall figure could be seen at the head of the gangway with its back turned.

  'What is it, sir?' Volber took a few paces towards the Abwehr man and his expression was uncertain. In the distance, over his shoulder, the colonel disappeared round the curve in the road which was now empty. Prentice was standing with his hands on his hips while Ford stared pointedly at the soldier who stood a few paces away with his rifle at the ready.

  'I think you're wanted back at the ship,' Dietrich repeated. 'I saw Hahnemann beckoning.'

  Volber was in a quandary. He had received explicit orders from the colonel to escort the prisoners personally into the village and he had no inclination to vary from Burckhardt's command by so much as a centimetre. But Lieutenant Hahn
emann was the officer who could, and did, make life arduous for him. So he compromised briefly, waiting to see whether the beckoning was repeated from the gangway. Dietrich remained where he was, apparently absorbed in the panorama across the gulf. If one ignored the huddled group on the jetty and overlooked the signs of military invasion, it was an extraordinarily peaceful scene. By early daylight the Aegean was an intense, deep cobalt with a backdrop of misty mountains on the mainland which seemed almost unreal. At the head of the lonely gulf, where the sun caught the water at a certain angle, the sea glittered like mercury, and on the nearby beach small waves, rippled by the breeze, slid gently forward and collapsed.

  Volber stirred restlessly. 'I can't wait any longer, sir,' he ventured, and Dietrich nodded as though he understood. He followed the sergeant through the gap and stopped suddenly when he saw, to his right, that two Alpenkorps soldiers stationed behind the wall had been concealed from his view. As he appeared they were looking at the hills to the south, but now they lowered their field-glasses, hoisted their machine-pistols more firmly over their shoulders, and walked back to the gap to take one last look at the vessel which had brought them all the way from Istanbul. Volber paused to have a word with them, making some joking reference to pleasure cruises, but Dietrich noticed that he was staring along the jetty in case Hahnemann appeared and started gesturing. Sighing out aloud, Prentice crossed onto the grass verge and sat down with his back to the wall where Ford joined him. Volber, standing in the middle of the gap with the other three soldiers, was about to reprimand him, when hell opened up on the gulf.