Enemy In Sight (A Commander Steadfast Naval Thriller)

by Richard Freeman

  ‘Like what, sir?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you, Elliston, but truly I can’t pin it down. How can I put it? You know when something seems… too simple… too much on a plate?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Well that’s how it feels right now. Too easy. Too easy to be true.’

  *

  By 6.00 am on the following day the two launches ML 178M and ML 375E were awaiting the arrival of the commando captain and his men. Steadfast was standing impatiently on the quay. He paced up and down, looked at his watch, paced some more… It was 6.15 am before he heard the first sound of nailed boots clattering on the rough stone surface.

  It was a moment before Steadfast realised why the contingent seemed unduly familiar. There, leading the six sappers, was the intoxicated captain from the Alexandria-Cairo train. His previously slumped and dishevelled appearance was now replaced by the smartness of the parade ground. His head was high, his step firm. Yet Steadfast sensed that the captain had to strain to maintain this alter ego. Under the veneer of the straight back and the chin held high he could see an old soldier fighting the demands of decaying flesh and a weakened spirit. His square face, straight nose and determined chin spoke of his past strength. The eyes, narrowed to slits by his years in the Indian Army, and his thinning wiry and faded ginger hair showed the toll of the years.

  ‘So we meet again, captain,’ said Steadfast as he stretched out his hand to the newcomer.

  ‘Just so,’ replied the captain. ‘Sorry about last week’s show. Don’t know quite what happened.’

  ‘That’s yesterday’s worries. We’ve got work to do now.’

  ‘So we have, damned important work, so Richie says.’

  ‘Indeed. George Steadfast’s the name.’

  ‘I’m Duckworth. Ralph Duckworth.’

  ‘Fine. Well, Duckworth, get your men to stow their stuff. Three men in each boat. I’ll be with Elliston at the start, so you might as well bed down with Montague.’

  It only took a few minutes for the young sappers to heave their bulging rucksacks on board. Their ready chatter let slip their excitement at what they saw as a very special mission. Yet to Steadfast’s eyes they seemed barely out of school. And there was something distinctly odd about the sergeant. What was the Army coming to, he wondered. He looked more like a… yet Steadfast could not quite articulate his sense of the sergeant’s oddity.

  Putting these thoughts to one side, Steadfast, eager to be away, gave the order to cast off as soon as the last boot was off the quay. As Elliston’s boat headed out to sea Steadfast pondered on the presence of Duckworth. Try as he might, whenever he thought of him, all that came to mind was a slumped body in a railway carriage, clutching an open bottle of whisky. His mission was not looking quite as simple as it had done yesterday.

  *

  The passage across the Mediterranean was uneventful – it helped to be so far east away from the main areas of Italian patrols. Although there was only a slight swell on the sea, most of the sappers deeply regretted their heavy breakfasts, which they soon had to offer up to the deep.

  As Steadfast’s force approached the Dodecanese towards the end of the night, he made his final review of his options for reaching Platos. Between him and the island lay, in a rough west to east line, Crete, Kasos, Karpathos and Rhodes. The most direct route was through the narrow channel between Kasos and Karpathos. The other two options were the Kasos Straits between Crete and Kasos to the west, and the straits between Karpathos and Rhodes to the east. It was still dark when Steadfast brought the two boats side-by-side to tell his commanders of his decision about their passage.

  ‘We’ve had a radio report of E-boats off Rhodes,’ Steadfast told his commanders, ‘so we’d better keep to the west. It would be a lot quicker if we rushed the Kasos-Karpathos channel while it’s still dark. We might be through before we’re spotted, but we’ll be heard alright. So, gentleman, it’s the westerly route through the Kasos Straits. I know it’s the nearest to Crete, but I reckon it’s the one for us today.

  ‘Pity,’ said Elliston, determined to establish his bellicose credentials. ‘I’d back our three-pounder against any E-boat. They’ve no chance of landing a torpedo on us with our shallow draught.’

  ‘This is not a jaunt, Elliston,’ said Montague, who was always alarmed at anyone deliberately seeking action. ‘I know the commander said we had to expect the unexpected. Fine. But making the unexpected happen deliberately is ridiculous. If we keep a low profile and stand well off from the shore we’ll be at Platos in one piece. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘The thing that’s wrong with that is that we know there are E-boats around here and we’re doing nothing about them,’ retorted Elliston in a disdainful voice.

  ‘That’ll do, gentlemen,’ snapped Steadfast. ‘It’s the Kasos Straits for now. I share Elliston’s frustration at being so near to the enemy, but we mustn’t forget Duckworth. Let’s get him to Platos and get the job done. You never know. Perhaps we could dawdle a little on the way back.’

  Steadfast’s self-restraint was not to last for long.

  *

  When the two boats entered the Kasos Straits there was just a hint of light on the horizon but visibility was reduced by an early morning mist. It came in patches: some dense, others being no more than a few silvery wisps. Steadfast ordered half-ahead-both on account of the poor visibility and to avoid the engines advertising their passage. Montague was acting as pilot for the two boats.

  ‘Keep us ten miles off Kasos, Montague.’

  ‘Ten miles it is, sir.’

  The sea was calm, much to the relief of the sappers, who now felt ready to open a few tins for breakfast. Apart from the mild rumble of the engines and the rustle of the gently foaming bow all was still. The two gunboats steamed on, keeping a steady course as they dived in and out of the mist. It was as if they had the Aegean Sea all to themselves. Gradually the sun came up and Steadfast ordered extra look-outs for the passage between the two islands.

  ‘Should be there in two to three hours,’ remarked Elliston to Steadfast. ‘Looks like a smooth run.’

  ‘So far. But don’t let your lookouts relax for a moment.’

  ‘Yeoman,’ called Steadfast, ‘make a signal to Montague “Tell Duckworth two to three hours to landing”.’

  The message clattered out by lamp and was confirmed by the reply “Duckworth acknowledges.”

  ‘Half-an-hour and we’ll be clear of the straight. We can go full-ahead then,’ remarked Steadfast.

  ‘Yes. At this pace we might get away by early afternoon,’ replied Elliston.

  *

  A few minutes later a call from a look-out in Elliston’s boat ended the uneventful run from Alexandria:

  ‘Engine on port bow!’

  ‘Stop both,’ ordered Elliston.

  375E slowed to a halt, followed by 178M, which drew up alongside. The officers grabbed their glasses and turned in the direction of the clearly audible engine.

  ‘E-boat,’ said Montague.

  ‘Indeed it is,’ said Steadfast. ‘Time for some diversion.’

  ‘But, sir,’ said Montague, ‘she hasn’t seen us. We’ve got a job to do – and all these soldiers on board.’

  ‘You think we should pass up the chance of sinking an E-boat?’

  ‘When we’ve got other orders, yes.’

  ‘Elliston?’

  ‘Let the transmitter wait. I’d love to get that E-boat before it gets us. It’s here now, but it might not be here on our way back.’

  ‘But,’ protested Montague, ‘if we attack it now we’ll alert every boat and plane in the Aegean. Bang goes any chance of a smooth run through to Platos.’

  ‘And what about my opinion?’ asked Duckworth. ‘You lot seem to be forgetting why you’re here: to take me and my men to Platos. No one said anything about provoking naval battles. Your job, commander, is to get us to Platos. Pronto. No messing about.’

  ‘My job,’ said Steadfast, ‘is sinking enemy s
hips.’ And with that declaration he pressed the alarm and yelled ‘Action stations!’

  ‘Arrogant bastard… it’s my bloody op!’ muttered Duckworth, who disappeared below.

  ‘Montague, you circle to take her on her port side. We’ll go round to starboard.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The twin 650bhp engines of each of the two Fairmile Bs roared into life. The bows of the two boats lifted as they picked up speed, cutting and bouncing through the flat sea. Their angry wakes signalled the urgency of their mission. But there was no immediate reaction from the E-boat.

  ‘What’s she up to?’ asked Elliston.

  ‘Very odd,’ replied Steadfast. ‘Perhaps she’s got engine trouble.’

  Then as the two launches moved into their attack positions, each about a mile off from the E-boat, she finally reacted. Her 20mm cannon began to spew rounds in the direction of both gunboats. Immediately Steadfast’s boats responded with rounds from their quick-firing three-pounders.

  The British shots fell wide and short. ‘Slow down firing and watch your aim,’ yelled Steadfast angrily. ‘Stop pussy footing around and hit the bastards!’

  He turned to Elliston. ‘Are they always this bad?’

  ‘We don’t normally fire at this range, sir. And the Germans are no better. We’ve not had a scratch.’

  ‘Humph!’

  The firing continued with not a shot touching the E-boat. ‘Steady on the ammo,’ cried Steadfast, ‘this may not be our last encounter.’

  His concern about wasting ammunition was ended by the sudden, deafening roar of the E-boat’s three twenty-cylinder Daimler Benz diesel engines under near full throttle. The boat roared away from the battle scene. Its 40-knots were more than enough to outrun the 20-knots of the two Fairmile Bs.

  ‘She’s pulling away,’ cried a look-out.

  ‘Cease firing. Stop engines,’ called Steadfast.

  Once more the two boats lay side by side. ‘What’s the meaning of that, sir?’ asked Montague.

  ‘A meaning that I’m loath to admit to.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘A tease. Your men missed every time because they’re no damned good. Those Jerries missed because they were ordered to. That boat was waiting for us and is leading us to Platos, with strict orders to get us there unharmed. She knows where we’re going and wants us to get there.’

  ‘But why doesn’t she sink us?’ asked Elliston. ‘She hardly tried just now and made no attempt to close on us.’

  ‘Perhaps she wants to capture our boats when we land,’ suggested Montague. ‘Maybe we need to split up until we know just what she’s up to.’

  ‘It may come to that,’ said Steadfast, ‘but for now I think we’ll keep together. My guess is that there’s some very special reason for getting us to land on Platos – and I doubt that it’s to do with our boats.’

  *

  Back in Cairo a new batch of agents’ reports had come into the Special Operations Office. Surreptitiously, Virginia and Caroline compared these with the reports on file.

  ‘Here’s an odd one,’ said Caroline, as she passed a radio report to Virginia.

  ‘Platos? Where on earth is Platos?’ asked Virginia.

  ‘No idea – it’s Greek, obviously,’ responded Caroline.

  ‘What’s odd about it?’

  ‘Well,’ explained Caroline, ‘we’ve had three radio reports from the resistance there in the past two weeks, but this latest report says that they are just about to set up on the island this week.’

  ‘So who sent the other reports?’

  ‘Who indeed?’

  6. A contested landing

  His suspicions now aroused by the mystery E-boat, Steadfast ordered Montague and Elliston to approach Platos at dead-slow for the last few miles. Without a map he was reduced to scanning the island through his glasses for both signs of activity and a possible landing place. The island was about five miles across east-west and three miles across north-south. It appeared to have little vegetation other than low scrub and a few isolated clumps of windswept scrawny trees. Everywhere that Steadfast looked he saw fearsome rock formations of limestone crags and deep gorges – a land fit only for sheep and goats, he thought. All along the coast the grey cliffs rose precipitously out of the sea. Even in the light swell the otherwise gentle waves were smashing against the rock faces before exploding into cascades of foaming water.

  ‘Not a hope of a landing here, Elliston. Take us anticlockwise around the island – it’s best to avoid the Crete side,’ ordered Steadfast.

  About half an hour later Steadfast called out ‘A beach! I thought we were going to have to swim our way in. Take her in Elliston.’

  Elliston directed his coxswain to head for the beach. Steadfast glanced back to make sure that Montague was following. He was. After all, Montague was the following type.

  ‘Looks quiet enough,’ remarked Elliston.

  ‘Too quiet,’ replied Steadfast, ‘given the welcoming party that we met on the way. Someone’s going to show up. But who?’

  ‘A goatherd from the look of the island,’ joked Elliston as he scanned the rocky hilltops with his glasses.

  *

  ‘English!’ called a voice from nearby.

  ‘There’s your goatherd!’ cried Steadfast, pointing to a fishing boat bobbing up and down on the swell near the beach.

  A loan Greek was sitting in the stern of the boat with his left-hand resting on the tiller and his right-hand raised in greeting. A few fishing lines were propped up in the well of the boat, possibly because the Greek was fishing, or possibly, thought Steadfast, as cover. The man wore a black shirt under a ripped and ragged dirty fleece jacket. Thick and tousled black hair burst out from under his filthy black cap, while his face was mostly obscured by an untamed tangle of black beard. His complexion was deep brown and his leathery skin was heavily etched by the sun. He was short and his bulk spewed out over the thwart. From what Steadfast could see, he guessed the man’s age as fiftyish.

  ‘First the Germans, now the Greeks,’ remarked Steadfast. ‘Some abandoned island!’

  ‘It may still be abandoned, sir,’ responded Elliston, ‘He’s only fishing.’

  ‘Fishing, maybe, but not for fish, I bet! You’ve no nose for trouble, Elliston. I have. Get two men to cover that boat and then bring us alongside. We’ll see what his story is – unless he causes trouble before we get that far.’

  ‘Yeoman,’ ordered Steadfast, ‘make to Montague “Stand off until further orders”.’

  *

  As Elliston’s launch moved alongside the fishing boat, seamen Roy Baker and Jason Peabody kept their Sten guns trained on the lone Greek.

  ‘Blimey! Filthy looking blighter,’ said Baker. ‘If my misses got hold of him she’d shove him in the bath tub and scrub him till he screamed for mercy. And shove a pudding basin on his ’ead and hack his greasy locks off.’

  ‘Have an ’eart, Roy. The Ities and the Jerries have been blitzkrieging away out here for months. Chances are ’e ain’t got no home now.’

  ‘Silence!’ called Elliston as the launch approached the fishing boat.

  Steadfast looked down into the well of the boat. There was no sign of any catch.

  It was the Greek who spoke first.

  ‘I was told to wait for you – to show you the beach and the way up.’

  ‘Who told you?’ asked Steadfast.

  ‘I get my orders, commander, but I can never say where from.’

  ‘I suppose not. But we weren’t told that you would be here. How did you know which beach we would come to?’

  ‘There’s only this beach – and a hidden sea cave that you’d never find.’

  ‘And what orders have you been given?’

  ‘To guide you – show you the paths. Wait till you see the island, commander. Then you’ll know why you need me. It’s all rocks and gorges.’

  ‘So I see,’ said Steadfast as he turned towards Elliston and took him by the elbow to guide him into the
wheel house.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Useful chap, I’d say, sir. With his help we’ll be on our way back this afternoon.’

  ‘Too helpful, I’d say. There’s something damned odd going on. A few hours ago we met the Germans. They feign battle and then scarper towards Platos. We arrive and find a resistance man – if that’s what he is – just when we need one but not when we are expecting one. It’s mighty suspicious.’

  ‘Aren’t you looking a gift horse in the mouth, sir?’ asked Elliston.

  ‘I don’t know, but I think we need to find out more before we all land.’

  ‘You… what’s your name?’ shouted Steadfast to the Greek.

  ‘Kouvakis. Petro Kouvakis.’

  ‘OK, Kouvakis. Give me five minutes to talk to my commanders.’

  ‘Time to get Duckworth off his backside,’ said Steadfast as he nodded to Elliston to move off to Montague’s boat.

  *

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Montague as Steadfast came alongside 175M.

  ‘The man in that dinghy – Kouvakis – says he’s been sent to guide us in and show us the paths on the island. God knows how he knew we were coming.’

  ‘Didn’t he tell you, sir?’

  ‘Only that he was ordered here. You wouldn’t expect him to give away his contacts in any case.’

  ‘So what next, sir?’

  ‘It’s Duckworth’s op, so he’ll have to decide how far he can trust this Greek. I’d say it’s hellish suspicious.’

  ‘I’m not sure that Duckworth’s too ready, sir, he’s…’

  Before Montague could finish his sentence, Steadfast had already leapt onto 178M and had disappeared down the aft ladder. The loud snores enabled him quickly to locate Duckworth in the officer’s quarters, fast asleep on one of the bunks. Steadfast gave him a shake on the shoulder.

  ‘Duckworth, wake up! Time for action!’

  Duckworth turned towards Steadfast, opened his right eye and began to struggle to raise himself up on one elbow. He groaned something like ‘Not just now.’

  ‘Action!’ repeated Steadfast. ‘You know, landing. Taking out that transmitter.’

  ‘Transmitter?’