Since the mission would have to take place at night, it was essential that the team, as well as the back-up force – to be provided by Athanasios Bourdzalis, a local kapetan – were well hidden in the vicinity. Micky found a house near the village of Skalani, close to a shallow gorge at the bottom of which was a dried-up river bed; it was owned by Pavlos Zographistos and his sister Anna, who were willing to shelter the main part of the team, while Bourdzalis and his men could hide in a cave the other side of the gorge. The house was about a half-hour walk over rocky fields to the abduction point.
Micky and Paddy then spent several days in Heraklion, studying the street plan and examining entrances and exits. Paddy took the opportunity to hold several meetings with resistance leaders, which were not directly concerned with the operation, and he made contact with the group that disseminated news from the BBC by hand. ‘After months in the mountains,’ he wrote, ‘there was something bracing about these descents into the lion’s den: the swastika flags everywhere, German conversation in one’s ears and the constant rubbing shoulders with the enemy in the streets. The outside of Gestapo HQ,fn2 particularly, which had meant the death of many friends, held a baleful fascination.’12 Back in Knossos, they had another brush with the enemy. They were in the house of a friend when three tipsy German sergeants came in. Wine was produced, and Micky offered them a cigarette – from an English packet. Not missing a beat, he told them the cigarettes were black-market loot from the battle of the Dodecanese: ‘A deluge of wine covered up this contretemps, followed by attempts, bearishly mimicked by our guests, to teach them to dance a Cretan pentozali.’13
Paddy, Micky and Elias all left Heraklion together and rejoined Billy and the others in the sheepfold above Kastamonitza on 16 April, Orthodox Easter Sunday. Four days later Bourdzalis arrived with his men. Manoli and George Tyrakis were very disparaging: the oldest had no teeth, the youngest had barely started shaving, and while they were all ‘armed like lobsters’ as the Cretans say, their guns were poor. Still, one could not fault their willingness. Refusing a meal, the party set off at once for what became a two nights’ march to Skalani.
They reached the Zographistos house after dark, on 23 April. The surrounding fields were planted with vines, but well-used footpaths lay across the landscape like a web. The four main members of the group sheltered in the house, while Bourdzalis and his men walked further down the dry river bed to a small cave that contained a wine press. It was a squeeze, but the German presence in and around Heraklion was such that no one could afford to be seen in daylight.
Paddy and Billy composed the letter they planned to leave in the car. It was addressed to the German authorities in Crete, and dated 23 April 1944.
Gentlemen,
Your Divisional Commander, General Kreipe, was captured a short time ago by a BRITISH Raiding Force under our command. By the time you read this both he and we will be on our way to Cairo.
We would like to point out most emphatically that this operation has been carried out without the help of CRETANS or CRETAN partisans and the only guides used were serving soldiers of HIS HELLENIC MAJESTY’S FORCES in the Middle East, who came with us.
Your General is an honourable prisoner of war and will be treated with all the consideration owing to his rank. Any reprisals against the local population will thus be wholly unwarranted and unjust.
Auf baldiges Wiedersehen!
PM Leigh Fermor, Maj., O.C. Commando
CW Stanley Moss, Capt 2/i.c.
P.S. We are very sorry to have to leave this beautiful motor car behind.
Seals from their signet rings gave the final touch to what Paddy hoped would be seen as a very British production.
Micky Akoumianakis arrived from Heraklion with two German uniforms, lance corporal’s stripes, and a traffic policeman’s paddle with a red and white tin disc. Paddy had just shaved off his moustache and Micky was photographing them in the uniforms, when suddenly four Germans were seen approaching the house. Paddy and Billy waited, their Colt pistols drawn, but the soldiers were only trying to scrounge some food from Pavlos’s sister. She was an anxious woman, and this brush with the enemy did nothing to steady her nerves.
More men were brought in to reinforce the ambush team. Niko Komis from Thrapsano and Mitzo Tzatzas of Episkopi were both quiet mountain men, who had acted as guides on the way to Skalani. Strati Saviolakis was a policeman from Anopolis in Sphakia. In his uniform, he could provide a good smokescreen while the party made its getaway. They also took on a young man called Yanni, who would guide them to Anoyeia.
The ambush was to have taken place on 23 April, but on that day the General returned to Knossos earlier than usual. Then Strati the policeman reported that some of Bourdzalis’s men, stiff from being cooped up in the wine-press cave, had come out to stretch their legs, and news of their presence was spreading. Reluctantly, Paddy had to tell Bourdzalis to take his men home. Having lost his back-up, he was delighted when an experienced resistance fighter called Antoni Ziodakis appeared out of the dark that night. Ziodakis was an old friend whom Micky had found in Heraklion, and he and Paddy talked and smoked till dawn.
The team moved out of the house on the 24th (Anna had decided their presence was too dangerous) and into the shelter of a clump of plane trees at the bottom of the steep-sided river bed. There were rumours of large German patrols sweeping the area, and no one dared move. Even more alarming was the letter from the local head of EAM, the Communist resistance, addressed to Paddy in person as ‘Mihali’. The letter hinted that EAM knew where the team was hiding, and threatened to turn them over to the ‘authorities’ if they did not remove themselves, for they posed a serious danger to the area. ‘I sent back a quieting and ambiguous answer,’ wrote Paddy, ‘hoping the guerrillas’ departure [i.e. Bourdzalis and his men] would lend colour to the words.’14 Paddy hoped above all that the abduction would take place that night, but the General spent the whole day in his villa. The plotters grew anxious, since with every passing day more people knew of their whereabouts.
The following day, the 26th, the General was driven to his headquarters at Archanes at the usual time. Billy and Paddy changed into their German uniforms at dusk. Manoli, George and the others took their Marlin guns, and together they set off across the fields, arriving at the abduction point at about eight in the evening. It was the first time that Billy had been there, and he noticed at once that the pitch of the road as it approached the junction was much steeper than he had expected. If the driver used the footbrake rather than handbrake to stop the car, it might be in danger of rolling away as its occupants were hauled out – but it was too late to do anything about it now.
10
The Hussar Stunt
Hidden among the rocks and bushes were Manoli and George, Paddy and Billy in their German uniforms, and Micky Akoumianakis. Meanwhile Mitzo and Strati climbed on to the bank, ready to receive the signal the moment the General’s car had left Archanes and was on its way back to the villa. ‘During the hour and a half of our vigil a few German trucks and cars drove past at intervals … very close to us, all coming from the south and heading for Heraklion, nothing from the minor Archanes side road. Nice and quiet; but time seemed to pass with exasperating slowness … On the tick of 9.30, Mitzo’s torch flashed clearly three times.’1
The General later admitted to Billy that he had always felt rather uneasy about that junction; that if anything were to happen to him in Crete, he felt it would happen there. So perhaps it was reassuring to see two corporals in field grey step out of the darkness. He did not have time to notice the odd details of their uniforms that would have given them away instantly in daylight: the commando daggers, and Billy’s puttees, which had not been worn in the well-booted German army since the First World War.
Billy waved his disc and I moved my red torch to and fro and shouted ‘Halt!’ The car came to a standstill and we stepped right and left out of the beams of the headlights, which, in spite of being partly blacked out, were still very brig
ht, and walked slowly, each to his appointed door … I saluted and said ‘Papier, bitte schön.’ The General, with an officer-to-man smile, reached for his breast-pocket, and I opened the door with a jerk – (this was the cue for the rest of the party to break cover) – and the inside of the car was immediately flooded with light. Then I shouted ‘Hande hoch!’ and with one hand thrust my automatic against the General’s chest – there was a gasp of surprise – flinging the other round his body, and pulling him out of the car.2
More men poured out of the darkness. Armed with coshes and guns, Manoli, Grigori and Antoni Papaleonidas helped Paddy to restrain the General, who was shouting, swearing and lashing out for all he was worth. Handcuffs were forced on to his wrists and he was shoved into the back of the car. Meanwhile, Billy had yanked open the door on the driver’s side. The driver, Alfred Fenske, reached for the Luger at his belt. Billy struck him on the head with a cosh which knocked him out, and he was pulled from the car and dragged to the side of the road. Billy moved swiftly into the driver’s seat. The engine was still running, the handbrake was on, the fuel gauge indicated that the tank was almost full – and Paddy was sitting beside him, wearing the General’s hat. In the back of the car, General Kreipe was firmly wedged between Manoli, Strati and George Tyrakis, who held a knife to his throat.
It was a moment of pure elation, with the kidnappers laughing and shouting and slapping each other on the back, while Micky leant through the window, cursing Germany and the General in a frenzy of pent-up hatred. Seeing the inside of the car still lit up like a beacon, Paddy smashed out the bulb with his pistol butt, and they set off towards Heraklion. Elias and Micky were left to remove all traces of the operation. Grigori, the two Antonis and Niko, who were in charge of the driver, set off across country more slowly than they had hoped: Alfred Fenske had regained consciousness, but still needed support when walking. They would meet up with the rest of the team on the slopes of Mount Ida in two days’ time.
In the car, Paddy addressed the General in German. ‘Herr General, I am a British major. Beside me is a British captain. These men are Greek patriots. I am in command of this unit, and you are an honourable prisoner of war. We are taking you to Egypt.’3 This came as a relief to the General, as did the assurance that he would eventually get his hat back, but he was astonished to hear that they proposed to drive him straight through the centre of Heraklion. For this part of the journey, the General was ordered to crouch down in the well between the front and back seats: he still had George’s knife at his throat, and as the checkpoints came up, hands were clamped over his mouth.
Billy drove through no less than twenty-two German checkpoints. Two factors tipped the odds in their favour. General Kreipe did not like checkpoints and used to growl at sentries who kept him waiting, so when they saw his car with its two unmistakable metal pennants they tended to wave him through. The blackout also came in handy. Although the streets were crowded with Germans, everyone looked like shadows; only odd chinks of light escaped from doors and windows. Billy ‘calmly and methodically hooted his way through the mob … collecting many salutes as the soldiers cleared out of the way’.4 To anyone peering in, the back of the car would have been impenetrably dark. In the front, Paddy made sure that the General’s hat with its gold braid was visible, and not his face. The last checkpoint at the Chania Gate was heavily defended, and it looked as if the sentry with the red torch meant business. Billy slowed down smoothly, giving the guards enough time to recognize the Opel. The barrier was still down; but as Paddy barked, ‘Generals Wagen!’ Billy began to accelerate, and the barrier came up just in time. It worked like a charm.
As soon as they were out of Heraklion and on to the coast road, a mood of riotous jubilation broke out in the car. Paddy also took the opportunity to introduce Billy, George, Manoli and Strati to the General, ‘and for a moment the four figures behind all seemed to be formally bowing to each other’.5 A little further on, the General said, ‘Tell me, Major, what is the object of this hussar-stunt?’6 Even Paddy had to admit that there was no easy answer to that question.
At Yeni Gave (now Drosia), Billy stopped the car. The handcuffs were taken off the General’s wrists, and he was asked to give his word not to try and escape – which, rather to Paddy’s surprise, he did. But when the General saw him getting back in the car, he had a moment of panic. ‘You are going to leave me alone with these … people?’7 Knowing how most Cretans felt about the Germans he did not trust andartes to follow the Geneva conventions, even though his countrymen had hardly set a good example. Paddy reassured him that he would be well looked after, and got into the car with George.
Paddy had learnt the rudiments of driving, but he was happier with horses than he was with cars. The Opel jerked forward in low gear, and he managed to drive it to the top of the track that ran past the hamlet of Heliana to the submarine bay that looked on to the tiny island of Peristeri. The car was left prominently on the road, with its accompanying letter. Paddy and George kicked up the track, scattered a chocolate wrapper, a cigarette tin and a few more butts, and before leaving, broke off the car’s two metal pennants that had served them so well. Then, under a new moon, they set off to walk to Anoyeia.
Anoyeia, well known as a centre of defiant resistance, had been united under the leadership of Stefanoyanni Dramoundanis. Shortly after Paddy had stood godfather to his daughter, the Germans had encircled the village and caught him. With his hands tied, Dramoundanis jumped over a wall and tried to escape, only to be shot in the back by the enemy. Normally, Paddy would have been welcomed; but since he was still in the uniform of a German corporal, he was given a taste of the Anoyeians’ hatred for the occupiers. Doors and shutters slammed, while the warnings rang out from house to house: ‘The black sheep are in the wheat!’ – ‘Our inlaws have arrived!’ At the café the old men fell silent, pointedly turning their backs. He did not reveal himself till he found the wife of the priest, Father Charetis, who was terrified. ‘It’s me, Pappadia!’ he whispered. ‘It’s me, Mihali!’ – ‘Mihali? I don’t know any Mihali!’ she cried, backing away. She finally recognized him by the gap between his front teeth, and hustled him and George into the house.
Paddy’s godbrother George Dramoundanis soon arrived, along with Father Charetis, and couriers were found to take messages to Sandy Rendel to the east, and to Tom Dunbabin, who was the other side of Mount Ida. It was a matter of vital urgency to get news of the abduction to Cairo, so that the BBC could broadcast the announcement and the RAF drop leaflets.
Meanwhile Billy and Manoli, guided by Strati, had brought the General within sight of Anoyeia though they could not risk entering the village. It had been a long night. They had found no water till 3 a.m., and the General moved slowly – his leg had been badly hurt, he said, as he was dragged from the car. He was also very hungry, having had no lunch: yet what upset him most was the loss of his Knight’s Cross, won in the push against Leningrad on the Russian front. Strati went up to the village and made contact with Paddy, and returned with a basket of food and wine. The kidnappers had to scramble up to a small cave with the General when they heard that Germans were in the village, a warning no doubt set off by Paddy in his corporal’s uniform.
A Fieseler Storch plane dropped a stream of leaflets at about 5.30 p.m. They were hastily printed in Greek, and told the Cretans that if General Kreipe were not returned within three days, ‘all rebel villages in the Heraklion District will be razed to the ground and the severest measures of reprisal will be brought to bear on the civilian population’.8
In Anoyeia, Paddy was still at the priest’s house when the leaflets fluttered down. ‘The room was convulsed with incredulity, then excitement and finally by an excess of triumphant hilarity. We could hear feet running in the street, and shouts and laughter.’ Paddy does not say so, but the news must have been received with anxiety too: the enemy’s threats were very real. ‘I seemed to be the only one in the room undisturbed by the German threat,’ wrote Paddy, such was his faith in the
RAF leaflets and the BBC news, which would soon be reporting the General’s evacuation from the island. ‘“And you’ll see!” he told the villagers. “Those three days will go by and there won’t be any villages burnt or even shooting!”’9 An old man in the room reassured him that they were willing to make the sacrifice. As a Cretan proverb put it, ‘You can’t have a wedding feast without meat.’
Paddy joined Billy and the General at sunset, and they set off on the long climb up Mount Ida. All were on foot but for the General, who rode a mule and wore Strati’s greatcoat against the cold. In the small hours, they took shelter in a conical shepherd’s hut: Paddy and Billy had not slept since the operation began. It was still dark when they got going again, and before long they were hailed by a lookout from a rocky ledge above. They had reached the hideout of Mihali Xylouris, one of the best and most reliable resistance leaders in Crete who had taken over as kapetan from the brave Dramoundanis. He was surrounded by armed Cretans, and three SOE operatives: John Houseman, John Lewis, and Tom Dunbabin’s wireless operator, who had the set nearby.
It was a day of disappointments. After an hour of trying to send the coded message, the operator discovered that the wireless set was irreparably broken. There were two other stations on the island, but only Tom Dunbabin knew where they were and he seemed to have vanished. They now sent a fresh flurry of appeals: to Sandy Rendel again, to Dick Barnes on the north coast, in charge of the Rethymno area, and to Ralph Stockbridge. They must contact Cairo immediately and ask for a motor launch to meet the abduction party on 2 May, which would give them six days to cross the island. If contact were not made on the 2nd, the launch should be prepared to stand by for the following four nights. The Germans were out in force, looking for the General: there were reports of troop movements in several places, while columns of dust were heading towards Mount Ida.
Patrick Leigh Fermor: An Adventure Page 21