by Leah Fleming
The glendi was going to go on all night but Yolanda was too exhausted to join in now.
The men were celebrating a successful drop, which brought them fresh uniforms, guns and boots, and they were like children dancing round in new riding breeches, slouch hats and berets. They’d killed a sheep; brought out the better wine in the oak cask that kicked like a mule. Everyone was relaxed.
The only shadow was the death of a brave Kiwi, Vasilis, killed in an ambush in February. He was mourned as a great leader of men, brave to the point of foolhardiness. The legends were already spreading of his deeds. His lavish funeral had united some of the warring groups for a few hours in mourning.
Only two days ago, strangers arrived with another British agent for a meeting in the beehive field where plans were discussed and argued over. It was here Yolanda had come face to face with Panayotis.
She could see why Penny was so smitten with him. He had that levendia; charm, high spirits, a devil-may-care bravura, a zest for life and living dangerously. Here he was, trying to dance the ring of fire. Everyone was clapping, waiting for him to leap or burn his pants. Andreas was taunting him, shouting and joining in. He was wearing himself out trying to keep the peace among warring factions but tonight he was drunk and like a boy again. Yolanda’s only wish was that Penny was here to share in the fun.
Stavros was sitting by the fire, drinking with the others. Her worries about him had proved unfounded for he’d fought bravely when a patrol came in sight, held his fire and proved he was on their side.
Now she wanted to single out Panayotis from the group without drawing attention to herself. Pregnant women didn’t speak to single men, so she sat in the shadows watching them dancing, peeling off their jackets, and this gave her an idea how to let him know that Penny had left the district.
She pulled out the wedding snapshots from the drawer and found the one with herself and Penny together. She was sad to be parting with it but she slipped it carefully into the British soldier’s jackets pocket after she’d written on the back ‘Your friend is in Chania.’
Next morning at first light they were all gone. It was better not to know where.
Penny had been working in the kitchen of the taverna for over a month and feeling herself growing stronger on Stella’s meals. She’d gone to the offices to queue for fresh papers but felt her height made her conspicuous and the wait was too long to endure. Her confidence in public places was gone. She felt perpetually uneasy.
One night, as darkness fell and the streets were patrolled by soldiers, she sensed people watching from doorways, the flash of a lit cigarette. She rushed into the back, warning Nikos they were being watched.
He laughed. ‘I think not. We have visitors tonight.’ But as Penny cleared away the debris from the wooden tables on the pavement, she became aware she wasn’t alone. She paused and spun round. There was no one was in sight, but she just knew she was being watched. She felt her hands shaking as she picked up the last of the wine jugs. She took a deep breath. ‘Come out whoever you are . . .’ she shouted, trying not to quake.
The outline of a tall figure in Cretan dress, a black shirt and bandana emerged out of the shadows and came swaggering across the cobbles. ‘Athina? So it is you?’
She’d recognize Bruce anywhere. ‘Thank God, you’re here . . .’ she said in English as she ran towards him.
He put his hands to his lips. ‘I’m not alone.’
One by one, dark figures emerged out of the walls, smiling sheepishly. ‘This is the beautiful mistress who warms Panayotis’s heart,’ they sang.
Suddenly six of them hurried through into the back room and Penny felt a tinge of disappointment that this was a secret meeting from which she would be excluded.
‘How did you find me?’ she whispered as she gave them plates of meze and tsoukoudia glasses.
‘Now there’s a strange thing, I found a picture in my pocket of you and my lovely hostess, Yolanda. It told me where to look.’ He smiled up at her and her frustration melted.
‘Chania is a big city.’
‘Not really when you know where to look. There’re not many Greek blondes who can swear like a trooper and kick a wandering hand into touch.’ Trust Bruce to make a joke of everything. ‘Still as disobedient as ever. I told you to stay in the hills. You didn’t even tell your friends.’
‘I had my reasons. There’s a guy from Athens, Stavros, they call him . . . He knew me from Athens. We were students . . .’
‘Yes, with Andreas’ gang. Good chap. I met him last week.’
‘I don’t trust him. He was a Fascist sympathizer as a student . . . we were close for a while. I think he’s a spy.’
‘You’re wrong, old girl. He’s out there fighting, he’s half Greek. People think he’s a German deserter so we can use him to trick other German prisoners into thinking he’s one of them.’
‘But when we were in Athens—’ she began out of the corner of her mouth.
Bruce was impatient. ‘What did he say when he saw you?’
‘He didn’t. I recognized him first. I really think you should check him out.’
‘We have already. Do you think he would last five minutes if we thought him an agent? The traitors are local men with grudges, criminals let out of gaol with families to feed. Yes, there were quislings from the mainland but they were flushed out long ago. Besides, he’s quite an expert on Minoan pottery. He wants to come back after the war and excavate some sites he’d found, so no more worrying. You were safe up in the hills. Go back to your friends. I think Yolanda is in the family way, judging by how Andreas is strutting like a barn cock.’
‘Are they coming here?’ Penny asked, seeing so many andartes under one roof.
‘They are about their own business and so must we be now, so scoot. I don’t want you knowing anything of our affairs. There’s a big push coming, we’ve heard on the wireless. We need to be ready.’ He gently pushed her from him.
She could have cried. Bruce was being the old Bruce, treating her like a child.
‘Athina, pee-pee,’ said Viki, Stella’s little girl. ‘Come with me . . .’ Stella and Nikos were busy, the children were awake and needed her. To be so close and yet so far from Bruce was agony, but there were matters far more important than her now. Perhaps, she hoped, at the end of the meeting there would be time to be alone.
The men talked and argued all night, drank and sang and ignored the women until first light when, scoffing down fruit and bread, they all made for the door. Bruce stopped to thank his host and took Penny by the arm, just as he had all those years ago in the caves.
‘Promise me you’ll go back to Yolanda. I’ll contact you there.’ He pecked her on the cheek and then she watched him disappear. It was Athens all over again.
Rainer read Stavros’s instructions, passed down from a soldier on patrol who’d stopped him and searched him and let him go. There was a map showing where the wireless was hidden deep into a cave. There was news of the British agent Panayotis working round the Apokoronas area and his girlfriend, the nurse Athina, had left the area for Chania. Wasn’t it time she was brought in for questioning?
Rainer didn’t like being told what to do. He had nothing to do with Gestapo tactics. His role was to tighten up the co-ordination of mass raids in the mountains and make sure the local police didn’t take liberties. There had been too many escapes from capture, accidental arrests of the wrong men. Discipline was either slack or deliberately loose. You could not trust one of these smiling Cretans, who promised plenty and delivered little. Some of their chief officers had fled into the hills themselves to avoid arrest.
So Penelope was here in Chania again. But she wasn’t attending the Catholic church services. He always looked for her there. How sensible to come to the coast. Where better to hide than in a crowd?
Yolanda sensed the tension. Everyone was in makeshift uniform, with bandoliers of bullets around their chests. Father Pavlo came to sprinkle holy water and bless them. Andreas had his medica
l sack at the ready. Please God, he’d not have to use it much. She waved them off, not knowing when they would return. She felt restless to join them as she knew other girls were arming themselves and following their men, but the family would not hear of her risking her baby.
They were joining another group on the road to Sphakia somewhere before Askifou. She looked up into the sky on that April morning. There was nowhere as beautiful as the White Mountains in spring, the colours so brilliant; fresh leaves, the sunny gorse bushes, scarlet poppies, yellow daisies, the whiteness of dry rocks and the emerald greens. There would be fresh herbs to pick and lambs fed on spring thyme.
Easter had come and gone and she thought of the Passover Seder happening without her. Her heart ached. How she longed to tell her parents her good news. Perhaps she would bear them a grandson. Surely they wouldn’t turn their backs on her then?
Later in the morning, a shepherd’s wife came running up from the village. ‘Have you not heard? The general has been captured. He is in the mountains . . .’
‘What general?’ Yolanda asked. ‘We know nothing.’
‘The big one, from Heraklion . . . General Kreipe. They are searching for him everywhere. The British and our men stole the chief of the island from under their noses.’ She spat on the ground.
Yolanda felt no elation, only terrible fear. Was this anything to do with Andreas’ group? How could it be? They’d only left before dawn. Heraklion was a hundred miles away. It was nothing to do with them and yet . . . There would be searches and reprisals. She felt sick. To capture the commandant of Fortress Crete was a great coup for morale, but at what cost?
How could she settle to her spinning after this news? Better not to worry Andreas’ parents with it. Everyone was making the most of the good weather, digging, planting, preparing the fruit trees and olives. This knowledge weighed heavy on her. What if their company didn’t know about this drama and ran into patrols bent on revenge, angry, vicious and determined to release the captive by any means? They’d put a ring of steel over the mountains, block all paths south. That was what she would do. Were her men heading into a wall of guns?
There was just a chance she might warn them before they went too far. Yolanda covered her head with a scarf, took her sakouli with a flask of water and cheese, heading out in the direction they must have gone. No time to waste, she thought, walking and then running as if her life depended on it. She knew a short cut towards Omalos, a tough trail but it halved the time if she battled through the heat of the day.
The whole of HQ was in turmoil at the news of Kreipe’s abduction by British agents. No one believed they would get off the island and so all the garrisons were mobilized to surround the mountain ranges from Mount Psiloritis to the White Mountains, and the coastline tightly patrolled to prevent evacuation. Reconnaissance planes scoured the ranges for sightings but there was no visible evidence to put them in this district yet. Rumours abounded that they’d already left by ship from the north. The general’s car was left by the coast road. Inside was a British Army cap and a message in perfect German saying no Cretans were involved in the snatch so there must be no reprisals. Rainer smiled, sensing it was just a ruse to distract them and put them off the real scent.
He could think like an agent too. The car was left north so they could zigzag south, travelling by night. There were dogs with Kreipe’s scent to follow. He must be found alive and that meant a thorough, systematic trawling through the gullies and gorges and caves they already knew. There would be a big prize for the general’s rescue, and many takers, but to be sure of success and their loyalty, Rainer was determined to be part of the search himself.
Yolanda was tiring. She’d hardly rested, and too much sun made her dizzy, but she soaked her head in a stream and filled her water flask again. It was good to know she was tracking in the right direction. A shepherd pointed the way. He offered to come with her but she preferred to go alone. The andartes would be holed up in the heat, out of sight, with no idea they were heading into danger unless the bush telegraph had reached them, but as they were on the move without a wireless it could take days for such tremendous news to reach them.
Her legs were shaking with tiredness and just when she thought she could go no further, she saw, quite by chance, a glint of movement behind some rocks. Binoculars would be trained on her as she walked up, pulling a piece of red cloth in her hand, red for danger, waving it until her arm ached. Then she saw them spilling out of the cleft in the rock to meet her.
Andreas scrambled down. ‘What are you thinking of? Sit down at once. What has got into you, woman?’
She told him her news, that the island was covered with search parties. He didn’t look surprised.
‘But that’s what we’re here for, to disturb their progress.’
‘You knew?’
‘We were told to prepare for something. What a victory if they pull it off. Come inside into the cool. You must rest. You were foolish to come.’
Yolanda felt deflated. They didn’t seem to be troubled by the news and now she lay exhausted by her effort. Andreas was not pleased with her at all.
‘You shouldn’t have left Mama and Papa, and in your condition. Did you not think we are warriors enough to take precautions?’ he accused her.
‘Is this all the thanks I get for chasing after you?’ she snapped back, tired and frustrated. ‘You should have told me.’
‘You know the rules: we say nothing, but it was good of you to be concerned,’ he replied, turning his back on her.
Yolanda felt fury bursting over her. ‘Concerned? You’re my husband, the father of my child. Who will look after us if you are gone for ever?’
‘Don’t talk like that in front of my men.’
Yolanda charged at him like a bull, yelling in Ladino, the old Jewish Spanish dialect, like her parents did when they argued. Out spilled all the frustrations of the past months. ‘Do you know what I gave up to follow you? Do you know I am now dead to my parents because of you? Now you call me stupid to come and warn you?’
Andreas argued back. ‘I didn’t say that, but this is men’s work.’ His men slunk away trying to be invisible. ‘Be quiet woman. This is what happens when women put their noses in matters that don’t involve them.’
This was a side to her husband she’d never seen before. They flung insults at each other until Yolanda was crying and screaming. Then Andreas threw his hands in the air, walking away. ‘Don’t be hysterical! The baby will not like it.’
‘To hell with you!’ She stormed off in fury. They’d never rowed in public before, or with such venom in private, and Yolanda was heartbroken. Why was he exerting his control before his men like this?
Now it was growing dark and she was stuck with them for the night. She was cold, tearful and sulking. Andreas kept to the other side of the cave, ignoring her. She kept her distance as well, too ashamed to move into the light.
At first light she rose and gathered her sack, tiptoed over the sleeping men and left, scrambling down the ridge, down towards the track as the sun rose like a golden globe. She’d not gone far when, to her horror, she saw a line of soldiers, hundreds of them, spread out with dogs, walking up the track far below. They were making a dawn raid. She was by now far too far away to give any warning and could only duck behind a boulder and wait to see what happened. As the line of soldiers moved forward, there was nothing she could do but pray.
It was good to be out in the cool dawn air, stretching his legs on a mountain hike. This was a patrol Rainer was leading himself. Now the whole island was on alert. His instinct was that the British Agents would be hiding somewhere up on the ridges. The patrol knew the Androulakis gang was lying up somewhere ahead, dozing off the night’s drinking. Stavros would take himself out to relieve himself and signal the exact position in Morse. There must be no warning and they’d net them all this time. In the battle, or after he was ‘captured’, Stavros would make a quick escape. No one would be any the wiser. Everything depended on silence
and surprise. With luck they would retrieve the wireless set and the operator’s codes. This was war and the honour of the island garrison was at stake.
Rainer hadn’t realized how far south the trucks had brought them before they set off on foot. They had marched through the night and the men were thirsty and weary and needed regrouping. Every platoon leader had orders to rein in noise and muzzle the dogs. Rainer felt the old battle adrenaline kicking in, the excitement mounting. Action gave a thrill like no other; all his senses were heightened, tension taut as piano wire.
This was too well planned to go wrong. Right was on their side. Resistance was futile. He looked up towards the rocks. For many up there, it would be their last sleep in this life.
Yolanda crouched, her back aching, looking up and down, helpless. If only she had a gun to draw their fire and give warning. All she had were rocks to throw. Better to watch and wait. She prayed from the psalms for mercy for her husband. She closed her eyes and then opened them and noticed a pinprick of light, flickering, flashing on and off. She’d seen this on the Albanian front. The mirror was positioned to catch the light of the rising sun, on and off in a code. Someone was signalling from Andreas’ cave, sending a message to the soldiers down below, bringing the enemy to their lair. Who was betraying them?
In an instance she guessed there would be only one man, one stranger capable of doing this to them. Stavros, the man who had asked so much about Penny.
‘Your guts never lie to you,’ she heard her father say. ‘You were wary of him from the start . . .’ Her heart was thumping with fear for Andreas falling into a deadly trap. She tried to scream but her voice was carried away in the wind. She felt bitter hatred well up like acid in her stomach. ‘You will be sorry you ever saw my face,’ she cursed into the wind. ‘I will find you if it’s the last thing I do.’
The German soldiers were about two hundred yards from the cliff when they were spotted. Rainer glimpsed figures darting and fleeing in all directions, opening fire and scattering his men into cover. This was not going to be as easy as he’d envisaged, and by now the escapees would have made for other, deeper caves where the wireless was supposedly hidden. But grenades soon flushed the remaining andartes out from their original hiding place. The living were dragged out and tied together, the dead and dying left to their fate, but there was no sign of the doctor or Stavros.