‘On Platos! Come on, captain. We’re here.’
‘Let a chap sleep, there’s a good fellow. I’ll be alright in a bit. Gippy tummy. Just a little under the weather at the moment.’
With this last effort Duckworth fell back on the bunk and his eyes closed once more. He returned to snoring without having understood a word of what Steadfast had said.
‘Damn him! He’s drunk again!’
Back on deck Steadfast turned to Montague: ‘How long’s he been like this?’
‘Ever since you ordered the attack on the E-boat. He was swearing and shouting about “swashbuckling commander” and “op-wrecking sailors”. Then he went below. By the time I next saw him I reckon he’d downed half a bottle of whisky. He’s out for a good while yet. That leaves us stuck here waiting around for him to sober up. God, what I’ll do to him if the Jerries turn up again!’
‘Well we won’t wait for him,’ replied Steadfast.
‘What, just turn round and hop off back to Alex?’
‘Trying to save your arse, Montague?’
‘No, sir, but…’
‘Christ! There’s always a bloody but! Forget about the sodding captain. We’ve still got his men and all their trappings. Let’s get on with the job. When Duckworth comes round he’ll find he’s missed all the fun and we’re on the run home.’
‘But he hasn’t got a second-in-command. Who’s going to lead the party?’
‘I am,’ replied Steadfast. ‘We’re at war, damn it. It’s criminal to not strike the enemy when you can. Well, we can, and Duckworth can’t, so in we go.’
‘But you’ve no authority, sir. You’re Navy.’
‘No authority? If you think we’re going to win this war by being authorised or sticking to orders, you’re very much mistaken. The Army want that transmitter taken out. We’re here and we’ll do it. I doubt the general will show much interest in how we did it. Anyway, we can always let Duckworth claim that it was his work.’
‘I hope you’re joking, sir. Drunk on a mission! He’ll get men killed one of these days if he carries on like that.’
‘You’re right, Montague. When we get back to Alex we’ll have to find some way to make sure he doesn’t let any other poor buggers down.’
‘And you’re still going in, sir?’
‘Don’t worry, Montague. I’m not going to blow myself up. I don’t know a thing about plastic explosives and I’m not going to start learning now. The sappers will sort it all out.’
‘If you say so, sir. It sounds all very rash to me,’ responded Montague in a voice that expressed both his alarm and disapproval at Steadfast’s intended military command.
‘First, though,’ continued Steadfast, ‘I need to check the lie of the land with our Greek friend – if he is a friend. I’ll need a dinghy and a couple of your men who can handle a gun.’
At this point Elliston interrupted, ‘I’d rather like to come too, sir.’
‘Not now, Elliston. This op’s got a bad smell about it. I’d like to keep you here until I’ve got a grip on just what’s going on.’
‘But, sir…’
‘No, Elliston. Stay here and be prepared for trouble.’
After Steadfast and the two sailors had embarked in the dinghy and were out of earshot, Elliston turned to Montague: ‘I wish that man would damn well let us into his secret. He knows something. I’m sure he does.’
‘What sort of something?’ asked Montague.
‘I reckon he’s had a tip off. You know, a nod and a wink about what’s really going on here.’
‘In that case, why doesn’t he tell us?’
‘Because,’ said Elliston in a whisper, ‘he’s got to protect his source. Doesn’t want to get them into trouble.’
‘Who on earth could he know in Alex who we don’t know?’
‘Beats me,’ concluded Elliston.
*
Seaman Roy Baker and Ordinary Seaman Jason Peabody rowed Steadfast over to the fishing boat while he sat at the tiller with a Sten gun across his knee. Both men looked out to sea as they attempted to avoid Steadfast’s commanding glower. But Steadfast was mistaken in thinking that this display of heroic command would intimidate Kouvakis. He had been toughened by what he and his fellow villagers on Crete had suffered at the hands of the Germans. He was beyond fear or intimidation.
As the dinghy drew alongside the fishing boat, Steadfast called: ‘Kouvakis, I’m going ashore. You’d better come with us.’
Kouvakis stood up with the air of a man who takes his time. Then, with a sprightly hop he jumped from one boat to the next, much as he jumped from one rock to the next in the hills back home as a runner in the resistance.
‘Where do you wish to go, commander?’ he asked.
‘Reconnaissance only for the moment, Kouvakis.’
Kouvakis dropped down onto a thwart without saying another word. The commander pondered how he could verify the claims of the Greek. With three barrels pointing at him he would be no trouble. But later? ‘He’s only a lousy resistance man,’ he told himself. ‘Why the hell am I worried?’ But as he said these words he could hear Virginia’s voice in his head: ‘We’re sending men to their deaths, George.’
With a jolt and a scrunch of gravel, the dinghy beached. The landing area was no more than thirty yards wide and twenty yards deep, cut into the rocky hillside. Steadfast looked around. There was not a sign of life, nor did the beach betray any signs of recent activity.
‘Well?’ said Steadfast.
Kouvakis understood. It was time for explanations.
‘I was told that you knew I’d be here. But we’ve had a lot of trouble with the radios lately. The Germans will do anything to find them. Last week they raided a village in Crete up in the hills. Searched every house and found a battery charger under the floorboards in one house. They took the whole family. They could be dead by now. So, you see, we don’t always get our messages through. Nor do we get all your messages.’
‘OK. So what was the message you sent?’
‘Your Army had asked for a guide for a demolition team. The message was to meet me here yesterday. I guess you never got it.’
‘You guessed right.’
Steadfast thought about what the Greek had said. If the Army really had asked for a guide, then surely they would not have sent off Duckworth without first having confirmation that the guide would be there. Kouvakis’ story did not make sense. It only reinforced Steadfast’s suspicions. For now, though, all he could do was to proceed with caution.
‘I see,’ said Steadfast in a resigned voice. ‘You lead the way.’
Kouvakis turned towards the back of the bay and began to make his way towards a cluster of large rocks. As they got nearer Steadfast could see the beginnings of a path that led upwards. He let the Greek get a good few yards ahead and then turned to his two seamen and whispered, ‘Keep your eyes skinned and don’t take your guns off that man for a moment.’ Then he let one seaman pass in front of him and the four men began to climb the rough path through the crevices in the rocky hillside.
They had been climbing for about five minutes when Steadfast sensed that they were nearing the top of the cliff face. Ahead of him he could see Kouvakis, walking with the firm, slow tread of a man who had spent a lifetime in the mountains. Every so often Kouvakis looked back to check that he was being followed. For a moment Steadfast wondered why he had ever been suspicious of this peasant farmer, now caught up in a war. Then he glanced to check that the two seamen were in place. There they were, steady as the Navy always was, Sten guns trained on Kouvakis. Steadfast next looked down as he carefully negotiated some tricky loose rocks. As he straightened up after clambering over a slippery boulder, he looked up. Kouvakis had disappeared.
‘Drop!’ Steadfast shouted to the seamen.
The three men froze. In the silence, voices could be heard somewhere ahead. There was no doubt about it. The voices were German.
‘Thank God I’m a suspicious man,’ said Steadfast to himself.
*
Steadfast was unable to see the Germans. That meant that they could not see him. He signalled to his seamen to retreat to the beach. They returned to Elliston’s launch and Steadfast ordered both boats to move off to the other side of a small headland. There they anchored as near to the cliffs as was safe and out of sight of the beach. It was time for a council of war.
Steadfast began: ‘We’re expected alright. A filthy Greek called Kouvakis was leading us up to some Germans – they’re obviously waiting to take us out.’
‘So much for an abandoned island!’ exclaimed Montague. ‘I suppose this puts paid to our expedition.’
‘Not at all,’ replied Steadfast. ‘True, it’s a bit of a complication. What we need is to lay our hands on Kouvakis.’
‘What, put him up against a rock face and stick a bullet in the traitor?’ said Elliston in a rather too excited voice.
‘We’d all like to do that, Elliston, but we need him,’ said Steadfast sternly.
‘Need him?’ exclaimed Montague. ‘That miserable filthy bit of double-crossing humanity! Hasn’t he done enough harm already?’
‘We need him,’ explained Steadfast in the weary voice of a man who does not like to state the obvious, ‘because he’s our only source of information on the situation on the island.’
‘But he’s run off,’ said Elliston.
‘That’s all too obvious. But he’s coming back. Tonight.’
‘You don’t think he’s going to walk back down the beach and call for a dinghy, do you?’ queried Elliston in a sarcastic voice.’
‘Don’t take that tone with me, Elliston,’ snapped Steadfast. ‘I’m not a fool. No, we’re going to go and get him. Montague will look after the launches. Elliston, and I, will take three men and reconnoitre the territory. It’s a small place. We’ll soon track him down.’
*
That night a dinghy landed back on the beach. Steadfast left Gunner Nathan Reynolds to take it off shore a little and wait for their return. If they were not back by daylight he was to go return to the launches.
Elliston had made up a party of Stoker Walter Hogan, Mechanic Albert Leach and Seamen Roy Baker – all steady and reliable men. All men with something personal to fight for: Hogan had his pigeons. Leach had a lady in every port. And Baker was just waiting to take over his father’s undertaking business.
Steadfast led Elliston and the three seamen up the same path that he had taken with Kouvakis that morning.
When they reached the cliff top there was enough moonlight to show a mass of ground rising in front of them and relatively level ground to either side.
‘Left or right?’ asked Steadfast to himself. ‘Left,’ I think.
Guns at the ready, the party slowly picked its way over the rocky surface and between the thorny scrub. After a few minutes Steadfast stopped the party.
‘What do you smell?’ he asked Elliston.
‘German sausage, I’d say,’ replied Elliston.
‘So would I,’ replied Steadfast. ‘Let’s go and help ourselves!’
‘Sir!’
‘Only joking, Elliston, but I’ll bet you a week’s salary that Kouvakis is tucking into his share.’
‘Ah, I see.’
Steadfast signalled to his party to lie down and wait. Then he crawled towards the campsite and carefully noted the disposition of the diners. There were four German soldiers sitting round the fire along with Kouvakis. A fire-fight in the dark was too risky, he thought, so he needed a way to extricate Kouvakis. He guessed that he was not worth enough to the Germans for them to come after him. He briefed his men.
Steadfast watched as Hogan and Leach crawled through the scrub to take up their positions to the east of the camp fire. He could see Baker a little way off with a clear line of fire to catch anyone trying to pursue Hogan and Leach. Taking a grenade, Steadfast stood up, pulled the pin, lobbed it over the fire and down into a tent on the north side of the camp. He dropped to the ground. For a few seconds the only sounds other than his pounding heartbeat was the crackling of the wood fire and the low conversation of the German soldiers. Then the calm camp fire scene under the stars was wrecked by a deafening explosion inside the tent as it burst into a kaleidoscope of smoke and flames. Fiery shreds of canvas, flaming blankets, plates, cups and equipment tore through the darkness of the campsite.
When Steadfast had lobbed the grenade, Kouvakis had been contentedly staring into the fire. His job done, he was now free to return to his family on Crete. His contented contemplation was ended by the blast. He leapt to his feet and instinctively ran away from the fire. As he fled into the darkness, he ran straight into the arms of Hogan and Leach. Hogan smashed the butt of his Sten gun over Kouvakis’ head and pushed him to the ground. In seconds the knot-tying skills of the two seamen had the peasant trussed up like a bird ready for the oven. They dragged their captive away from the fire and into the darkness beyond. Baker followed them, keeping an eye on their line of retreat.
The soldiers were stunned at first and ran away from the fire, but they had remembered to grab their guns. Soon they were regrouped on the west side of the fire. If they knew or cared about the capture of Kouvakis, they did not show it. What they did know was that an enemy was near – very near. They were determined to attack in return. But Steadfast had no intention of obliging them in battle. He recalled his recent attempt at a night action on the Balkan beach and later ones at the fort. He had watched too many men drop from the fire of an unseen foe in the dark. Now was not the time to repeat that experience. He would withdraw. Settling with the Germans could wait until daylight.
He and Elliston had only one way out – the path down to the beach. They had to secure it before the Germans could block it off.
‘Elliston, guard the path down. Get Baker to help if you can find him. I’ll hold off this lot.’
Steadfast gave Elliston a couple of minutes to get into position. As he waited, he heard the first sounds of movement from the direction of the camp. Slow, steady, careful steps: the Germans were coming his way. He edged backwards towards the path, all the time directing his gun at the German position. When he had nearly reached the path, he stumbled backwards over a boulder. His gun let off a few rounds into the night sky and a volley of ill-aimed fire came in response from the campsite. Steadfast was now the target of four MG42s. He leapt to his feet and threw himself headlong down the path, screaming out to Elliston ‘Back! Back!’ Behind him the air was full of lead in search of a target.
Down on the beach Reynolds was in the dinghy, his hands on the oars, ready to move off. The trussed up and gagged Kouvakis was jammed between Hogan and Leach, each holding him in a grip that did not permit the slightest movement.
Bullets and tracer were now spattering the beach. The zings and phutts emphasised how close the Germans were as Elliston and Steadfast ran across the shelterless beach. Elliston clambered into the boat.
Steadfast heard a bullet thud into the timbers of the dinghy. Then a cry of pain from one of the seamen.
‘Go! Go!’ shouted Steadfast.
Reynolds – who regularly acted as stroke in naval regattas – pulled away from the beach with a jerk that sent his passengers flying. By now Steadfast was wading through the water, bullets splashing around him and shouts from the enraged soldiers behind him. The water seemed like treacle as he tried to force his body forward towards the retreating boat. Another thud into the side of the boat. Another scream of pain. Steadfast made one last effort at a lunge towards the boat and fell forwards as he stumbled on the rock-strewn seabed. Then he felt a hand grab him by the jacket. It was Elliston, leaning far out of the boat, his feet locked under a thwart. The side of the boat dipped perilously down towards the sea as Elliston stretched out. He pulled as best he could with one arm, while he used the other to keep himself out of the water. Steadfast felt the pull. The distance was closing, while the bullets kept coming. He reached out. The gunwale was finally there. He grabbed it and pulled himself towards the
side of the boat. Elliston let go, sat up, and with one final pull heaved the sodden but unharmed commander into the dinghy. Steadfast plumped down onto the bottom of the boat with a squelching thump. He glared at Kouvakis.
7. Attack on the transmitter
As the dinghy disappeared into the darkness the firing from the beach ceased and the Germans congratulated themselves on having seen off the attack. They had no need of Kouvakis now that the British were gone. In a way they were sorry, since the guarding of Platos was tedious in the extreme. The bit of action had been a welcome distraction. And they knew that the British would return.
*
While the Germans were congratulating themselves on a good night’s work, the heavily loaded dinghy was nearing Elliston’s launch. The task of hauling it back would have defeated most men, but Reynolds’ steady pulling made light work of the job.
Once back on the launches, the officers and men were able to take stock. Leach and Baker had minor flesh wounds, which were soon bandaged up. Meanwhile Elliston waited for Steadfast to change into dry clothes and for hot cocoa to be served before asking: ‘What was all that about? It all seemed a bit pat – the way Kouvakis slipped off and Jerry appeared. Choreographed like a West End ballet, I’d say.’
‘Just the word, Elliston. It was all in the script. But who wrote it, and why? Time to ask Kouvakis.’
Steadfast ordered Reynolds to release Kouvakis except for keeping his hands tied behind his back. He then sat down in front of the peasant and pulled the gag out of his mouth.
‘Well?’ said Steadfast.
‘Well what?’ Kouvakis defiantly responded.
‘Don’t mess with us, Kouvakis. No more of that nonsense about our not getting the message to meet you. There was no message, was there?’
Kouvakis did not respond.
‘There was no message but you still knew we were coming. How?’
No answer.
‘Kouvakis, get this straight. Your hands are tied behind your back. We’re drinking cocoa. You’re not. And things will stay that way until you talk.’
Kouvakis did not respond. But as Steadfast looked at him he sensed a defeated rather than a defiant man. One more push was perhaps needed.
Enemy In Sight (A Commander Steadfast Naval Thriller) Page 6