Tanner was now at the top of the stairs beside Chambers. Taking out two grenades, he pulled the pins, counted to three, then threw them and, as they exploded, hurried down the steps and opened fire. Two men, one dead, the other badly wounded, lay at the foot of the stairs, but there were more enemy further along the main passageway to the right. Tanner knew he could not step clear of the stone staircase without being hit.
‘What’s holding you, Tanner?’ shouted Vaughan.
‘Won’t be a moment, sir,’ said Tanner, pulling out a packet of Nobel’s and ripping open the cardboard to take out one four-ounce stick. Then he took another two grenades, pulled out the pins, counted and threw them. Bullets spat out, one nicking his arm, but as the grenades exploded and filled the passageway with smoke and dust and, he hoped, stunned the men, he threw the stick of Nobel’s and opened fire. The stick exploded, men cried out, and Tanner yelled at the others to hurry down. At the same moment Sykes’s trip wire detonated with another deafening explosion. Smoke, dust and cordite filled the air.
‘Hurry! Hurry!’ rasped Tanner, ushering them forward.
‘Follow me!’ called Vaughan, and ran to the entrance. He stopped them all briefly and spoke to the two women and the boy in Greek. The three nodded, their eyes wide and frightened.
‘We need to watch out for the men on the battlements,’ said Tanner.
‘We need to run,’ said Vaughan. ‘Don’t forget it’s dark.’ He looked at them all. ‘Ready? Let’s go.’
Vaughan and Chambers went first, then the women and the boy, and then Tanner. Sub-machine-gun and rifle fire cracked out from above and Tanner felt himself crouching, instinctively trying to make himself smaller. Bullets pinged and fizzed, ricocheting off the stone. He heard Vaughan gasp, but then, in the same moment, return machine-gun fire was peppering the battlements. Well done, Mac, thought Tanner, ducking behind the harbour crane.
As he reached the Snipe, he saw that McAllister was not in the back but on the ground to the side, using the base of the cranes as cover. Peploe had also reversed the truck tight behind the derricks so that it lay out of the line of fire from the fortress. Bullets zinged uselessly into the metal behind them as, with the engine running, Chambers helped the women into the back.
Tanner now joined him, hoisting the boy up beside his mother. ‘Where’s Captain Vaughan?’ he asked.
‘In the front,’ Chambers told him. ‘He’s been hit.’
‘And where the hell’s Sykes?’
‘Here, sir,’ gasped Sykes, from behind.
‘Good – now get in quick. Mac – time to go.’
Moments later they were all in, the boy and the women crouched in the middle, Tanner and Chambers at either side, with Sykes next to McAllister and the machine-gun.
‘Go, sir!’ called Tanner, and now they sped along the harbour walls, bullets continuing to ring out behind them. They raced to the end of the harbour wall, as another machine-gun opened up from the direction of the arsenal. Tanner could feel Nerita trembling with fear, but the lines of tracer from the enemy machine-gun were both wide and too high and now Peploe had turned up the Street of the August Martyrs and out of the line of fire. Suddenly another explosion rocked the town to the west as they continued to speed along.
And now they were back on Evans Street, seemingly deserted.
‘Nearly there,’ said Tanner.
‘Here,’ said Sykes, passing Tanner a twenty-ounce packet of Nobel’s. In his own hand he held two blocks of TNT. ‘Reckon you can hit these, Mac?’
‘I’ll give it a go, Sarge.’
‘Punter, jump up with me,’ Tanner said to Chambers, and pulled himself up so that he was clutching the rail around the cab. They were now nearing the Kenouria Gate and up ahead, in the faint night light, he saw guards stepping out into the road. They would not be stopping this time, and at thirty yards he opened fire, Chambers following a split second later, the men collapsing by the side of the road. As they reached the gate, Sykes threw out a block of TNT, and McAllister’s MG spat bullets, livid darts of tracer soon finding their mark, the packet detonating with a bright eruption of flame and a million stone shards. Tanner opened fire again, blindly into the dark on either side of the road, as they sped on through the archway. Then Sykes lobbed another block, which, seconds later, McAllister hit, and then finally the packet of Nobel’s. From the bastions rifle shots cracked out, but already, as the packet of gelignite exploded behind them, they were away, speeding clear of the town and up the low ridge to safety.
‘We’ve done it!’ laughed Sykes. ‘We’ve bleedin’ well gone and bloody well done it.’
20
But they had not made it. Not yet, at any rate – Tanner knew he would not relax until they were safely at the monastery above Krousonas. As they crested the ridge they now knew so well, Peploe turned off the main Knossos road, taking a rough track that led them through the vineyards to the west of the ruined palace where they had fought just days before. Was it really so recent? Tanner thought, as they bumped slowly along the rocky track. It seemed longer than that – a lot longer. A lifetime ago.
Peploe was taking them south-west, towards the mountains, which even in the darkness of midnight loomed heavily ahead. The countryside was alive once more with the sound of the night: cicadas with their strange chirruping noises. It was still warm: the heat was no longer completely dying each day, but lingering throughout the hours of darkness. No one spoke now, as though to do so would be to tempt the good fortune they had enjoyed so far. And then, from Heraklion, came one last explosion, bigger than any before it, which, even several miles away, was so loud and distinct that the women and the boy started.
‘It’s all right,’ said Tanner, softly. ‘Just one last little message to Jerry.’
Alexis repeated the words to the boy, then touched Tanner’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Soon after they reached a stream, and there they left the Snipe, having first filled the engine with loose soil, and made a sling for Vaughan, who had been shot in the arm. It was not far – a three-hour walk at most – but as they moved through the groves and vineyards and climbed into the foothills of the Ida Mountains, Tanner felt overcome with fatigue. The adrenalin had worn off, and the sudden peacefulness, with the night-time beauty of the countryside, bathed as it was in an ethereal glow, contrasted too starkly with the din and violence of the action. He sensed the others felt the same.
When they finally reached the monastery and Alopex was reunited with his wife, son and sister, he wept quite openly, overcome to see them alive. For Mandoukis, however, their arrival prompted an outpouring of despair. Clutching his head and tearing at his hair he was inconsolable.
‘I told him we looked for her,’ Vaughan explained to the others, ‘but she wasn’t there. He said she was in the Sabbionera Bastion, as he’d told us.’
‘But that’s not what Satanas said,’ Peploe reminded him.
‘Poor bugger,’ said McAllister.
‘He’ll need watching,’ muttered Tanner.
In the monastery’s refectory, they were fed, given wine and coffee, then set off on the final stage of their journey, back up to the cave in the mountains.
Tanner slept. He’d dressed the gash on his forearm, changed back into his old uniform of denims, shirt and battle blouse, then with his German trousers and shirt as a pillow and the jump smock as a rug, he had settled down in a soft hollow in the ground he’d discovered a little way from the cave. Almost the moment he closed his eyes, he succumbed to deep, dreamless sleep. When he awoke, Alexis was standing over him with an enamel mug of coffee.
‘Here,’ she said.
Tanner rubbed his eyes, thanked her and looked at his watch. It was after nine; he hadn’t slept that long in ages.
‘Thank you,’ he said, but now sitting up he saw bruises on her cheeks. ‘Are you hurt anywhere else?’
‘It is nothing.’
‘The bastards,’ he muttered.
‘But it is not as bad as the ones
my brother gave you.’
Tanner smiled. ‘Nor the ones I gave him.’
‘He will not fight you again,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘I owe you my life, Jack. They would have shot us all.’
‘Not just me, Alexis.’
‘But it was your idea. Giorgis told me. You risked everything.’
‘I couldn’t bear the thought of them taking you,’ he said.
She sat down beside him and clasped his hand. ‘I do not know you at all,’ she said, ‘but still I feel as though I do.’ She lightly kissed his cheek, then stood up. ‘Thank you, Jack. Thank you for what you did.’
Tanner smiled. She left him, and Tanner remained where he was, thinking. Woodsmoke wafted towards him, sweet and soothing – unlike cordite or the dust of explosives. His throat was dry after the night’s fighting, and having drunk the coffee, he reached for his water bottle. He was about to begin cleaning his weapons when Sykes and McAllister joined him.
‘Morning, sir,’ said McAllister. ‘That was quite a bloody night.’
‘It certainly was,’ said Tanner. ‘You did well, lads.’
‘I still can’t quite believe we got out alive,’ said McAllister. He was a small lad, still not quite twenty, but stockier now than when Tanner had first known him – many of the boys were better fed in the army than they had been back home in the working-class areas of Leeds and Bradford, the recruiting heartland for the Yorks Rangers. McAllister had been in the Territorial Battalion along with Hepworth, Chambers and Bell when Tanner had first known them. They were not Territorials now, though. Tanner reckoned they were as good as any regular soldiers he had ever known.
‘As I always tell you, Mac,’ said Tanner, ‘surprise is one hell of an advantage. We knew exactly when we were going in and pretty much what we were going to do.’
‘Glad you did,’ said Sykes. ‘I thought we were making it up as we went along.’
‘Improvising, Stan, we were improvising.’ Tanner chuckled. ‘But we knew we were going to set off some pretty big bangs. Now Jerry hadn’t really got a clue what we were up to. Someone had got a scent of something, but they were looking for Cretans and they certainly weren’t expecting loads of bloody great explosions. It’s amazing what you can get away with if you’re prepared to brazen it out. By the way, Stan, what were you doing with that truck as it passed? I saw you crouch down beside it.’
Sykes grinned. ‘I was quite pleased about that one,’ he said. ‘I saw the store box hatch was open so I put in a block of TNT with a black time pencil on. It was barely moving so it was quite easy. Ten minutes after I done it – boom!’
‘You sly old bugger,’ said Tanner, taking out a cigarette. ‘How’s Captain Vaughan this morning?’
‘He should be all right,’ said Sykes. ‘The bullet broke his arm, though.’
‘Have they got it out?’
Sykes nodded. ‘He’s been stitched up and dressed, thanks to that Jerry first-aid kit. Mr Liddell’s still not so good, though.’
Tanner looked at him. Oh, yes?
‘His fever’s gone but he’s still pretty ill. Seems to be asleep most of the time.’
‘Should pull through now, though,’ said Tanner. ‘Bastard better had.’ He took out his oiler, phial of gin, rag and pull-through.
‘I’ll tell you one thing, though, sir,’ said McAllister. ‘That Alopex. He’s not as tough as he likes to make out, sir, is he? A grown man like that and he was blubbing like a baby.’
‘It’s these Mediterranean types,’ said Sykes. ‘They’re an emotional bunch.’
‘I’d rather have him blubbing than knocking ten rounds out of me,’ muttered Tanner, and felt the scab above his eye. ‘He’s got a hell of a fist on him.’
‘Talk of the devil,’ said Sykes. ‘Here he is now.’
Alopex climbed up towards them, black beret on his head, bandolier around his waist, wearing his supple black leather boots and pantaloons. ‘I need to speak to you alone, Tanner,’ he said.
Tanner clicked his tongue, and stood up. ‘Give us a moment, will you, lads?’
When they had gone, Alopex embraced him. ‘What you did – I cannot thank you enough. How could we have ever been enemies? I misjudged you.’
‘Forget it,’ said Tanner.
Alopex now drew out his knife, and Tanner took a step backwards, alarm on his face. But Alopex laughed, held out his palm and drew a small cut across it. He then took Tanner’s hand and did the same. Tanner flinched, but Alopex took both their hands and clasped them together. ‘Once enemies,’ said Alopex, his face solemn, ‘but now blood brothers. This,’ he said, releasing his grip and holding up his hand, ‘is the blood of honour.’
Tanner nodded. ‘And your wife and son – they were not harmed?’
‘My son, no. But those sons of whores struck Nerita and Alexis. What kind of a coward does that?’
Tanner said nothing.
‘His name is Balthasar,’ said Alopex. ‘Oberleutnant Balthasar.’
‘The women told you this?’
Alopex nodded. ‘They heard his men say it. Balthasar and his men are camped in the valley to the south of Gazi.’
‘Don’t go after him there,’ said Tanner. ‘It’s like I said. He captured your family to lure you out. I’m sure of it. But you’ve got them back now, so don’t ruin it by falling into the trap. He’ll be expecting you.’
Alopex wiped his moustache, then put his hands on his hips. ‘At night, though, maybe we could go down.’
Tanner shook his head. ‘You might kill some of his men, but you won’t get him. Be patient, Alopex.’
The Cretan smiled and clapped him on the back. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you are right. And we must try to get you off the island. Hanford has gone to Yerakari. He’ll be back here tomorrow, hopefully with news. Much as we could do with you and your men, you are not Cretans. This is our battle now.’ He turned to leave, but Tanner called him back.
‘I’m sorry about Mandoukis’s wife.’
Alopex took off his beret and rubbed his brow. ‘I am sorry too,’ he said. ‘I feel his pain.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ said Tanner, ‘but you will watch him carefully, won’t you?’
Alopex sighed and sat down beside him. ‘I have known Mandoukis all my life. His younger brother is one of my oldest friends – he was with the Cretan Division as well. Both our brothers are now prisoners of the Germans. I still do not understand why they were abandoned – but there it is. I understand what you are saying, Jack, and if I were you and did not know him, I would wonder the same. But I cannot believe he would betray us. I simply cannot. You should have seen him fight at Heraklion.’
‘Then I’m sure I’m wrong about him,’ said Tanner. ‘But keep your eye on him, eh?’
‘Of course,’ said Alopex, standing up and leaving Tanner to clean his weapons. Tanner watched him go, then began stripping his Enfield and rubbing it down with oil. Blood dripped from his cut hand into the breech and he cursed. Alopex had paid him a great compliment, but he wished the Cretan had not made such a dramatic gesture. With the gash over his eye, the nick on his arm and the bruising to his face and back, he felt quite knocked about as it was without the need to lose any more blood.
Tanner had kept his own close watch on Mandoukis. The man had seemed quite broken, keeping away from the others, and barely speaking a word. In the evening he had hardly touched any food, instead retreating to a corner of the cave where he had remained. Later, Tanner had glanced at him before heading off to his hollow in the ground. Mandoukis had not moved all evening.
Tanner had lain awake for a long time, thinking. At some point, however, he had drifted off to sleep, but now, as someone shook his shoulder, he was suddenly awake.
‘Tanner!’
It was Alopex.
‘What?’ whispered Tanner. ‘What the hell is it?’ He was sitting up now, feeling for his rifle.
‘Mandoukis,’ said Alopex. ‘He is leaving.’
‘We should follow him.�
��
‘I agree. I have two of my men ready. Quick, we must go now before we lose him.’
Grabbing his rifle, Tanner quietly followed Alopex to the track that led back down through the ravine where his two men were waiting. The three Cretans spoke in whispers, then Alopex said, ‘He’s a hundred metres or so ahead. We must hurry.’
They moved as quietly as they could but the night air was still and it seemed to Tanner as though every step would alert Mandoukis to their presence. It was dark, but the great canopy of stars and a quarter-moon gave a faint, creamy glow. It was enough for them to see where they were going – and to reveal Mandoukis as the track led him around a spur and silhouetted him against the sky.
‘I warned the sentries,’ Alopex whispered to Tanner. ‘They pretended to be asleep. I think it is better to follow him.’
‘I’m sorry, Alopex,’ said Tanner. ‘I had hoped I was wrong.’
‘Maybe we still are. This way we will know.’
A couple of times Mandoukis paused, seeming to listen, then continued. He emerged from the end of the ravine, but instead of walking down past the monastery and into Krousonas, he cut across country, through the olive groves above the village. Now that their eyes had become more accustomed to the night light Tanner, Alopex and the andartes followed him easily.
Having skirted Krousonas, Mandoukis rejoined the track, but instead of following the path to the mountain villages of Korfes and Tilisos, he took the road that led to the valley below.
The German camp, thought Tanner. Briefly they lost sight of him as the road curved, but then they saw him again, and then at last, a few hundred yards further on as they neared the base of the valley, they saw, glowing dimly, the pale cream canvas of the German tents nestling between the olives.
‘Mandoukis,’ whispered Alopex, ‘I can hardly bear to believe it.’
‘We need to be careful,’ said Tanner. He unslung his rifle, gripping it in his hand.
Blood of Honour Page 33