Enemy In Sight (A Commander Steadfast Naval Thriller)

by Richard Freeman

  ‘Time for a dip, I think, Kouvakis.’

  Steadfast ordered two seamen to put a lifebelt round Kouvakis and lower him into the water, with the lifebelt tied to the side of the launch.

  ‘Comfy?’ asked Steadfast sarcastically. ‘It’s quite warm here on board.’ He turned to Elliston: ‘Hungry work up top, wasn’t it. Can your cook rustle up something tasty and warming?’

  ‘Warming, yes sir. Tasty, I doubt it.’

  ‘Well even the sight and smell of something “warming” should help to prod our silent friend into life.’

  Tinned spam and carrots soon appeared, which Steadfast and Elliston ate in full view of Kouvakis. As Steadfast cleared his plate, he turned to his captive and said ‘Ready to talk?’

  ‘No, commander. I can’t.’

  Steadfast noted the “can’t” rather than “won’t”. That he could work on.

  ‘Peabody, push his head under for ten seconds. I’ll count.’

  Steadfast counted ‘One, two, three…’ as Ordinary Seaman Jason Peabody hesitantly and reluctantly obeyed. He had not joined the Navy to mistreat prisoners. He came from a respectable family. His father was a local bank manager and church warden. Peabody had been a choirboy before his voice had broken and was still a God-fearing churchgoer. And now this!

  ‘It’s OK, Peabody. He’ll talk soon enough.’

  Up came Kouvakis, spluttering and coughing but showing no signs of wishing to talk.

  ‘Twenty seconds this time, Peabody.’

  Down went Kouvakis and once again Steadfast counted. When Kouvakis was allowed to surface he looked ready to burst. His breathing was deep and heavy, his coughing frantic and convulsive.

  ‘Ready to talk?’

  There was no answer. Down went Kouvakis for thirty seconds, but still he did not talk.

  ‘Forty seconds, Peabody.’

  ‘Sir, you’ll kill him!’

  ‘Forty seconds, Peabody!’

  ‘No, sir! I won’t. It’s wrong!’

  Peabody fled below. Steadfast calmly took his place and put his hand on Kouvakis’ head. ‘Forty seconds, Kouvakis,’ and plunged him under.

  When Kouvakis shot up after the forty seconds he was in a near convulsive state. He was coughing up water, his eyes were close to popping out of his head, his neck and face were a mass of bulging blood vessels. While his body cried out for air, he was at the same time near to collapse. Only with the greatest of effort could be squeeze out the one word ‘Commander’.

  ‘Ah! Talking at last,’ responded Steadfast. He ordered two seamen to haul in the captive and sit him on the deck.

  ‘I’m waiting, Kouvakis. And so’s the sea, so get talking.’

  ‘OK, commander, you win… I’m not a Nazi. You have to believe me. I only did it because I had to.’

  ‘Did what?’ asked Steadfast.

  ‘Agreed with the Germans to meet you on the beach and lead you up to them,’ confessed Kouvakis.

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Nothing more. I was free to go once I had done that.’

  ‘And what made you agree to work for them,’ asked Steadfast.

  ‘You remember I told you about the village raid?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What…’ began Kouvakis hesitatingly. ‘What I didn’t say was that it was my village. They only killed some of the villagers. The others are hostages. They’ve got my wife and my two sons. They said they would kill them if I didn’t do this job.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll keep their words?’

  ‘Yes. They’re always doing this sort of thing. People come back when we cooperate. Some too afraid to ever resist again. Others more determined than ever to fight to the end. We Greeks don’t fear death you know, commander. We fear humiliation.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man, Kouvakis,’ replied Steadfast in a compassionate voice. ‘I think I’m going to believe your story. And, it sounds as if your family will soon be back home. After all, Jerry thinks you’ve done your job.’

  ‘I have,’ protested Kouvakis at the hint that he had failed in some way.

  ‘Quite so. But now you work for us.’

  ‘Of course, commander. The Germans have stolen my country and I want to get it back.’

  ‘It’s a deal, Kouvakis,’ said Steadfast as he held out his hand. The two men looked deep into each other’s eyes as they shook hands with a warmth and sincerity of a bond in the making.

  ‘Get this man some dry clothes and hot food,’ Steadfast called out.

  *

  While the crew made Kouvakis comfortable, Steadfast took stock of his situation. What the Greek had told him confirmed that the Germans were expecting a British landing. He recalled what Duckworth had said in the train: ‘They knew we were coming. Someone told them.’ As Virginia had warned him at the pyramids, there was a leak somewhere. In fact something worse than a leak: a source of systematic betrayal. Whatever it all meant, one thing was clear: the Germans were taking their presence seriously. It was time to talk to Duckworth.

  *

  Steadfast and Duckworth sat in the stern of Montague’s launch, well out of Kouvakis’ earshot.

  ‘I hear things went a bit awry last night,’ remarked a now sober Duckworth.

  ‘Indeed they did. It was just as you said about your op. They knew we were coming. We’ll have to act on the assumption that they know everything about our mission.’

  ‘Not everything I damn well hope,’ reposted Duckworth. ‘That would wreck the whole thing.’

  ‘But,’ protested Steadfast, ‘we’re here to “wreck the whole thing” – the transmitter.’

  ‘So they didn’t tell you in Alex what this is all about?’

  ‘Yes. Destroy the transmitter.’

  ‘Damn good thing you didn’t go ahead and do it when I was… er… under the weather.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’ asked Steadfast.

  ‘Because,’ said Duckworth in that confidential tone of his, ‘we are under strict orders not to wreck the whole thing.’

  ‘You’d better explain,’ said a now totally confused Steadfast. ‘I’m only a simple sailor. We aim, we fire, we sink.’

  ‘It’s like this commander,’ said Duckworth, looking around to make sure no one was in ear-shot. ‘That transmitter is left over from the twenties. It’s not been used for years. Now, Jerry’s come up with some new-fangled high frequency radar, and their testing it from up there. Our boffins back home are baffled as to how they do it, so they want us to bring back the boxes of magic tricks.’

  ‘Why does “high frequency” matter?’ asked Steadfast, peeved at being forced to betray his ignorance of all things technical.

  ‘Not up in radar, then?’

  ‘Me? I’m a sailor, not a boffin,’ protested Steadfast.

  ‘Put simply, the higher the frequency of your radar, the more detail you see on the screen. And there’s no way London’s going to let Jerry have better radar than we have.’

  ‘Ah! This is beginning to make sense at last,’ said a relieved Steadfast.

  ‘See my sergeant over there?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Lousy sergeant,’ admitted Duckworth, ‘but only because he isn’t a sergeant. He’s a top-notch brain-box sent out from London. He’s here to find out what’s up there and tell us which bits to bring back.’

  ‘I thought your sergeant looked a bit out of place. It’s impossible to imagine him on the parade ground.’

  ‘Jenkinson would agree with that!’ continued Duckworth. ‘He hates being out of his lab for a moment. But thank God we’ve got him. The rest of us wouldn’t know a valve from a magnetron.’

  ‘Nor would I. They both sound like something you find in a rock pool,’ joked Steadfast, embarrassed at his further display of ignorance of anything to do with electricity.

  Duckworth laughed mockingly: ‘I thought you Navy types were supposed to know a bit about engineering. Magnetrons are the gubbins that make the radar waves.’

  ‘I’ll take your
word for it. All set for tonight?’

  ‘Not tonight, commander. Today’

  ‘In daylight! Are you mad?’ exploded Steadfast, once more returning to his low opinion of Duckworth.

  ‘It’s orders, commander. Jenkinson’s got to photograph every nook and cranny of the installation before we take it apart. That means daylight. Then, when we blow it, we must leave no trace that we’ve run off with even the smallest bit of it. It’s got to look like pure destruction.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘That we’ll be using a hell of a lot of plastic,’ said Duckworth triumphantly.

  ‘My God!’ shrieked Steadfast, ‘There are German’s up there! Do you think they’re going to sit and watch us fiddle around with cameras and screwdrivers?’

  ‘Who said anything about sitting around? We need a diversion to draw them off. Shouldn’t be hard with your men and mine.’

  ‘Duckworth, you’re damn lucky we didn’t complete this mission our way before you told me all this. Next time, make sure you leave your whisky bottle behind.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think they’ll be a next time, commander,’ said Duckworth in a resigned manner. ‘I know it. I’m done for. Burnt-out. Run-down. Only fit for the depot, if that. I’ll put in for home duty as soon as we’re back in Alex.’

  ‘Let’s make a deal, then, Duckworth. You give me your whisky bottle – or is it bottles? – and I’ll get you safely back to Alex with your magic boxes. OK?’

  ‘Done, commander. It’s bottles, by the way. I’ll get them now.’

  Duckworth passed inside the boat and returned with the bottles.

  ‘Thanks, commander. You’re saving my bacon, and I know it. I’ve made a mess of this tour but with your help no one need know just how much of a mess.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Duckworth. Just stand by me for forty-eight hours and we’ll never need to mention it again.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Steadfast. A good man,’ said Duckworth.

  *

  Steadfast smiled as he thought of Cunningham and Moresby, who had only sent him on this mission because it was so unimportant. Last year he had brought the precious Dobransky back to Alex. This time he would be bringing back priceless boxes of electronic wizardry. They might even merit another visit to Number 10.

  But there was work to be done. He called Kouvakis over.

  ‘Kouvakis, we need your help. Damn good thing I didn’t drown you yesterday.’

  ‘You wouldn’t really, would you?’

  ‘Don’t be so trusting, Kouvakis,’ replied Steadfast. ‘I’m not known for being soft-hearted but I am known for getting the job done. Well now this job needs you.’

  ‘If it gets us one minute nearer to kicking the Germans out of Crete, I’m with you commander,’ volunteered Kouvakis.

  ‘Right. It’s like this. I can’t tell you why, but the sappers have to blow that transmitter in daylight.’

  ‘O Christós! You lot make things difficult for yourselves!’

  ‘It’s not us,’ said Steadfast. ‘It’s London. Anyway, we’ve got to get those Jerry’s out of the way – a diversion. Any ideas?’

  Kouvakis paused. Steadfast could see that he was thinking. Possibly the whole success of the operation now depended on this stinking ill-educated goatherd. Then came the response:

  ‘Yes, commander,’ said Kouvakis with an ear-to-ear grin. ‘The perfect idea! All I need is to make use of one of your launches.’

  ‘Let’s go!’ cried Steadfast.

  *

  An hour later three groups of men were ready for the operation to attack the transmitter. Alone, Kouvakis climbed the steep path up to the German camp. Montague’s launch disappeared towards the north-east corner of the island. Steadfast and Duckworth, along with the sappers, went inland towards the transmitter, but setting out an hour behind Kouvakis.

  *

  Within a few minutes Kouvakis was walking into the German camp. The soldiers were lounging around, half-dressed, drinking coffee and showing no signs of purposeful activity.

  ‘You again,’ said Unteroffizier Friedländer, ‘our friends all gone?’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Kouvakis. ‘They’ve got engine trouble. Their boat’s gone to the secret cave while they wait for a rescue boat. It will be there in about three hours.’

  ‘What secret cave?’ asked Friedländer.

  ‘It’s a sea cave. A small boat can go in at low tide. It’s safe inside, but you can’t get out at high tide – there’s only about a metre of height at the entrance then.’

  ‘And today’s tide?’ asked Friedländer.

  ‘Rising now, sir. They’ll be there for hours if they manage to get inside.’

  ‘Can we get at them?’ asked an excited Friedländer.

  ‘Yes, sir. There’s a narrow gorge – almost invisible – that takes you down to a back entrance to the cave on the landward side.’

  ‘Lads, they’re ours!’ cried Friedländer to his men. ‘Kouvakis, lead the way!’

  The soldiers quickly dressed, collected their weapons and kicked out the campfire. Kouvakis led them north east, taking care to follow a low path from which the transmitter could not be seen. They had a long, slow trek in front of them since the path was no more than a goat track through the scrub and up and down the boulder-strewn terrain.

  *

  While Kouvakis was leading the Germans away from the southern side of the island, Steadfast and Duckworth were picking their way up to the island’s peak. They had first surreptitiously checked the camp to make sure that the Germans had not left a guard there. The campfire was extinguished, the ashes strewn to prevent its reigniting and sods of fresh turf on top to retain the hot embers. There was not a soul in sight other than a couple of birds pecking on the ground in search of the remains of breakfast.

  ‘Odd not to leave any guard,’ remarked Steadfast.

  ‘I expect Kouvakis has convinced them that we’ve all left,’ replied Duckworth. ‘Good thing, given all the work we have to do.’

  The two men walked on a little further and then Steadfast stopped, looked back and surveyed the lie of the land.

  ‘Duckworth,’ he said, ‘if you were asked to guard this transmitter, where would you set up your camp?’

  ‘Somewhere between the top of the path from the beach and the transmitter, I suppose.’

  ‘And where’s Jerry put his?’

  ‘Way off to one side.’

  ‘Odd, don’t you think?’

  ‘Damned odd, now you mention it. We could have come straight up here from the beach and they’d never have seen us. Odd lot, those Jerries.’

  ‘Are they? I don’t think so. I reckon they’re camped over there in the hope that we did find the transmitter and didn’t find them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the thing they’re really guarding is not the transmitter. It’s something else. Something over where the camp is.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘No idea. But my theory explains something else.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Those Jerries have made no attempt to attack us. The E-boat scarpered. They let us land. And when we left the camp, they chased us off, but no more than that. They’re on the defensive – but defending the camp, not the transmitter.’

  ‘I still say they’re on odd lot,’ retorted Duckworth. ‘What’s there to guard at the camp? A load of rocks and scrub.’

  ‘Perhaps we’ll find out sooner or later,’ concluded Steadfast.

  *

  Having reached no firm conclusion about the Germans’ strange arrangements for guarding the transmitter, Steadfast and Duckworth turned upwards towards the peak. There was not the least trace of a track. All they could do was scan the hillside for the best way around the scrub and over or around the rocky outcrops. Duckworth panted and groaned at the unaccustomed exercise. Behind him even the fitter sappers sweated under their heavy loads.

  The party reached the transmitter around midday.

  ‘Over
to you, Duckworth,’ Steadfast said as he sat down to admire the view of the Mediterranean. There, to the south, would be Elliston’s boat, now back behind the headland. Over to the north-east Montague should be in position outside the sea-cave, ready for the approaching Germans. All was silent, apart from the rattle of tools being extracted from back packs. Above him was a clear blue sky and, beyond the grey-green landscape was the deep blue of the Mediterranean. It was hard to believe that this was a war zone.

  Behind him, Jenkinson was meticulously photographing every aspect of the installation, while a sapper held up a rule against each fitting.

  ‘All done,’ called Jenkinson. ‘Now for the treasure.’

  Jenkinson, with a sapper beside him to pass him tools, unscrewed and unbolted various bits and pieces. Soon three quite large metal boxes, covered in sockets, dials and knobs lay neatly spread on a tarpaulin on the ground.

  ‘There it is,’ said Jenkinson. ‘They’ll soon be jumping for joy over that lot in London.’

  Jenkinson then knelt down and carefully wrapped up the boxes and gently placed each in a separate sling – they were too big for their backpacks. He then moved the slings well away from the transmitter, placing them in the lee of a rocky outcrop about thirty yards from the site.

  ‘OK, captain, you can do your best now.’

  Duckworth and his men unpacked their plastic explosives and began stuffing bits in every conceivable nook and cranny of the ancient transmitter and its rough stone building. They were soon done.

  ‘Everyone out, now!’ shouted Duckworth. ‘Don’t leave a thing that you want to see again. The fuses are set for thirty minutes. Steadfast and I will stay here to check on the results. You lot get back to the boat and stow your haul ready for a quick get-away. Once she goes, the Germans will be all over us.’

  Jenkinson and the sappers left the hill top, well-satisfied with their successful capture of the secret boxes.

  Sometime later Duckworth remarked ‘Ten minutes to go.’

  ‘Good,’ replied Steadfast. ‘I’d like to be getting off. Heaven knows how long Kouvakis can hold off Jerry.’

  *

  Montague and his men never had any intention of taking their launch into the sea cave. They stood off the entrance with their 0.303 machine gun ready to blast any German bold enough to poke his nose out. It was getting on for midday when the Germans, led by Kouvakis, came down the narrow gorge that ended in the back entrance to the cave. Like the sea entrance, the landward access was low – no more than a yard high – but inside there was enough clearance to walk down one side on a ledge just above sea level. The cave was about fifty metres long, very narrow and quite dark. The soldiers entered cautiously, guns at the ready as they felt there way along the twisty interior. As they turned the last corner before the sea exit, daylight finally flooded in.